Yes It Is
by margaretsusan
Summary: A historical fiction/alternate universe story about the Beatles - what if a time traveler could save John's life? Yes, this is a Mary Sue, but we tried very hard to keep everyone in character while still having a sense of humor!
1. Prologue

**YES IT IS**

Authors: Penny Lane, Jenny Wren, & Lovely Rita

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: _We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of Historical Fiction._

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**Prologue**

_September 29th, 2006_

Every bend and every turn offered a jolt of excitement to those who had the privilege to visit this city. It thrilled, it created, it exuded history; some visitors would simply not notice, while others stood and soaked it all in. Tourists flooded the streets day in and day out in search of the famous sights that everyone had to visit while on holiday. While Maggie knew that the celebrated locations on her holiday plan weren't exactly normal compared to others', thousands of dedicated fans like herself still flocked to England for the exact same thing every year. It was the birthplace of the greatest rock band in history - and London was the adopted home town of four boys who lived and breathed on this very ground that she walked on – where they created a sound that over forty years later still rang strong.

At twenty-six, Maggie had just finished grad school and had been given a postdoctoral position at NASA as an astronomer. Needless to say, she had due cause to celebrate before beginning a career that she had worked so hard to attain for so many years, and that was destined become the central point in her life. Of course, celebration to her consisted of a small vacation to England to relax, to submerge herself in the only other thing she loved as much as science.

Music. Specifically, The Beatles' music.

Though the Beatles had gotten their start in Liverpool, and developed their skills in Hamburg, the studio was where they had perfected their craft. She was fascinated with how science, technology, and engineering had been used to translate their ideas into the artistry she adored. Logically, her pragmatic mind had determined that a tour of EMI studios, just for the simple pleasure of walking the same path the Beatles did all those years ago, would be the first stop on her solitary vacation.

The tour guide told the same anecdotes that Maggie had been reading in books since she was a teen, and showed off framed photos on the walls, mostly ones Maggie had seen before on the internet. But to see them here in this environment made them somehow different. A sense of _their_ presence was sunk into every corner and briefly Maggie wondered if she shut her eyes, if she'd be able to hear the sound of _their _ laughter.

Maggie smiled as she strained her ears, trying to hear the sound of the voices that haunted these halls. The same voices that she blared in her car radio. The same voices that she had fallen asleep to night after night, as she sat on her bed studying for her exams, before finally succumbing to blissful, Beatle-filled dreams. She couldn't count anymore how many times she had dreamed of meeting them, of watching them create music. This hall seemed to know her secret dreams though. There was just something about it that…

Maggie stopped, frowning slightly as she realized what she was doing. Once more, she was letting the abstract side of her mind run away with her. Being whimsical and fantasizing about your favorite rock star was may have been all fine and dandy when you were a kid and a teenager, but she was an adult now, and about to start a life-changing career in a field dominated by men. Logic and fact and her ability to use both flawlessly in the sciences had gotten her the job at NASA, not fantasy and whimsy. She was letting her foolish and romantic heart run away with her once more. Besides, who was she kidding? If she was going to daydream about The Beatles, perhaps she should imagine them more accurately. Instead of laughter she would probably hear something more like the sound of their yelling. How many fights had taken place inside these walls?

Probably a lot towards the end.

But as Maggie looked at one of the pictures, which showed the boys having a pillow fight, she felt her fading smile come back slightly, because in the beginning, there had been love. No one could deny that. All anyone had to do was look at the shining pictures before them and they could clearly see that there had been something special about those four boys. Something that other musicians had yet to recreate.

Just as the tour group turned the corner, Maggie felt her sandal give a little, and nearly tripped. Looking down, she noticed a strap had come loose and with a sigh she bent to fix it, letting her fellow Beatle fans pass her by and continue eagerly on with the tour. Soon the hall was empty, the sound of a shutting door echoing in the distance. Maggie stood, turned her head, and tried to see which way her group had gone. With a slight groan, she realized that she had lost them, and found herself wondering how that was even possible, since she had only bent down for a few seconds. Shaking her head and sighing at herself for getting caught up in her childish daydreams again, she set out, determined to keep herself focused on the task at hand, and at the moment that task was to find her tour group.

When she turned toward the direction where the shutting door had sounded, something caught her eye and caused her steps to falter. Among the pictures, nestled almost in the corner, was a lone picture of John Lennon, and not one she had seen before. It was small in size compared to the others. The ends were worn and faded, the photograph yellowed with age, and yet it captivated her in a way that none of the others had. It drew her in, almost as if it had picked her out from a crowd. Maggie gravitated towards it, tilting her head to the side and examining the picture, taking in every detail, every line and every curve of a face that she had looked upon countless times in her life. Everyone had their favorite Beatle, and John was definitely hers. Her life's biggest regret was having never had the opportunity to meet him. What she wouldn't give to have only spent a few moments with him.

As she stared at the picture she caught herself laughing quietly as she recalled one of her favorite movies, "Somewhere in Time." In the movie, Christopher Reeves was able to time-travel by focusing on a photograph of a woman that had captured his heart, and simultaneously willing himself into the past. The entire plot was completely ridiculous and scientifically impossible, yet still she loved it. Loved the idea of it all, of love knowing no bounds, whether it be time or distance. Slowly she felt reality fading as she let herself sink into the feeling of being that deep in love. With wanting to be with someone so much that it didn't matter how much time lay between them, that they could still come together in the end. It was a waste of her time to dream of such things when she had such a bright professional future lying ahead of her. But then again, she was on vacation, right? And hey, if it worked in the movies…

Maggie smiled and shook her head. It was hokey, it was completely impossible, and if anyone at NASA ever found out what she was about to try, even if it was just for fun, she'd never live it down. But she couldn't help the urge to be whimsical right now, nor did she want to. Somewhere in the back of her very logical mind, she knew this would be the last time she would believe in fairy tales, and that she would say goodbye for good to the child inside of her after this holiday.

So, not quite believing she was doing it, Maggie stepped forward a few inches, concentrated on John's eyes, and tried to keep her laughter inside.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all.

She was a fool for even thinking such a thing was possible, for even daring to indulge in this adolescent game of time travel and fantasy. This was the kind of game you expected out of a child, not a grown woman. But even as she thought this, even as she berated herself for wasting the time she had on nonsense such as this, she found that she couldn't turn away.

Those same brown orbs that she had looked upon time and time again held something different now. It was as though they were almost real. A magnetic energy seemed to radiate towards her at the sight of his eyes as they beckoned her forth even further.

The edges of her vision began to blur as her sole concentration narrowed in on those eyes and Maggie felt herself begin to sway. Feeling the world swirl around her, Maggie snapped her eyes shut, bringing one hand up to her forehead and throwing her other arm out to try and keep her balance, dropping her purse in the process. Finally feeling the world begin to steady around her, Maggie took a deep breath, swallowed slightly and felt the cold sweat that had gathered at her temples begin to dissipate. Shaking her head, she smiled to herself, and felt slightly embarrassed about how entranced she had become with the silly notion that just maybe she could travel back in time, when she, of all people, knew how impossible it was. For a moment there, she had actually believed it could have worked. She was just lucky no one had walked by at the time to see her gawking at the picture like some moonstruck fangirl.

Taking in a deep breath, Maggie opened her eyes, and had to fight a wave of nausea as the room was still a bit blurry. She needed to push on and go find her tour before some lone security guard rounded the corner to find her separated from her group, and thinking she was probably up to no good, threw her out of the building. But as her vision cleared, her eyes expecting to fall back on the picture of John, she suddenly felt her breath catch in her throat and her eyes widen.

She stumbled back a few steps as she took in the sight of a very _real_, and a very bewildered John Lennon standing before her.

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**A/N: This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	2. Chapter One

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_September 29th 1964_

Stumbling back, Maggie felt herself begin to fall as her knees gave out from under her. Blindly she reached out with her arms, searching for something to hold onto before she went crashing to the floor. As she grappled for some sort of purchase, strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and forearm. They held her upright, steadying her on her feet, and calming the moment of blind panic that had coursed through her as her world had spun. Taking a moment to calm herself, she stood and let her vision clear, acutely aware of the grip on her arm. With a deep breath, Maggie opened her eyes, only to have them come in contact with the pointy-toed boots placed firmly on the ground next to her sandals. The very sight of them made her stomach clench involuntarily. Slowly she trailed her eyes upwards taking in each detail from the hem of his slacks to the white collar of his shirt peaking out from the top of his sweater. _It's actually called a jumper in England_, Maggie thought to herself, her analytical mind processing and sorting data and information, no matter what the situation. Processing and sorting information despite the fact that with each passing second she felt the racing of her heart hammer on faster, creating a dull thud inside her head. As her eyes left his collar, the thud in her ears grew to a loud roar as she took in his neck, then his chin, followed by his jaw line, lips, long nose, and slowly, hesitantly, his eyes. The moment their eyes connected, the roaring in her ears stopped, blinked out of existence and was replaced simply with a deafening silence.

Confusion colored his eyes - those brown eyes. Hadn't those eyes been in a photograph just a minute ago? Maggie stared up at him, only just remembering to breathe as she tried to snap herself out of it. It couldn't have possibly worked, could it? People didn't just fall into the past through pictures. It went beyond improbable, it was impossible!

"Uh- hullo," John said, cocking his head to the side and staring at her warily. Briefly he looked around the hallway, trying to see where she had come from, but found that the only things surrounding them were walls and a few pictures here and there.

Maggie's mouth fell open slightly as she heard the voice. "I'm dreaming," she breathed. "That's the only possible explanation." She shook her head while speaking out loud, which aided in giving her an aura of insanity that seemed to actually amuse John. But he was still wary. The fans were finding new and clever ways to break into the studio every day. He cocked his head to the side, and with his hands still placed firmly upon her, he listened to her try and talk herself out of something that he wasn't quite sure of himself. "I mean, you can't just get sucked into the past through a picture, can you? No, I didn't think so; it's simply not even theoretically possible." She laughed to herself, growing a little hysterical over the matter as the air of insanity surrounding her seemed to increase in size. "In fact this is completely impossible." She said, looking down at her feet for a moment before looking back up at John. He stood before her, his brow furrowed as he took her all in. "You're not real," she stated shortly.

At that simple pronouncement, a small smile slipped across his face and his hands fell from her arms. "I can assure you, luv, I am very real." He then paused to stare at her, mimicking her pondering pose before continuing. "Did you ever stop and think that perhaps _you _might not be real?" he asked teasingly.

Maggie furrowed her brow, his words throwing her for a loop immediately. Opening her mouth, she quickly shut it, trying to decide what to say. The only thing that came to her mind though was a question that seemed fairly obvious, but was nevertheless something that needed to be verified. "Who are you?" she managed. Surely, this was just a very good John Lennon look-a-like, she had not traveled back in time, and she was just dehydrated or tired or both, which is why her head was spinning earlier. Maggie smiled to herself, yes, yes, it was always the simplest answer that was the correct one. Logic prevailed once again!

Unfortunately for logic, the John Lennon look-a-like bowed. "John Lennon, at your service." He grinned. "And you are?" Maggie's only response to that was to mumble her name, then continue to stare and mentally go over her day in her head. Maybe when she had bent down to fix her sandal, she had simply slipped and fell. Maybe she had hit her head and she was currently lying in the middle of the EMI hall bleeding to death and this was all some sort of coma-like dream. That would make more sense than what she was dealing with now.

John openly scrutinized the girl before him now; simply put, he was curious. She was dressed differently then he was used to seeing, wearing jeans that were indecently low-waisted and hugged her hips tightly. Not that he minded. Her shirt confused him as well, since it formed to her curves and exclaimed "Barenaked Ladies" across the chest. While he couldn't argue with the sentiment of her shirt, he was shocked that she'd dared to go out in public dressed as she was. Her hair itself was enough to scream "foreigner" as it hung long and loose down her back, a slight wave set amongst it. Her accent told him that she was obviously American, so while that alone was enough to explain the oddities about her, and the clothes and the hair, it didn't explain the fact that she popped out of the air right in front of his nose, like Alice stepping through the looking glass.

Maggie shook her head and finally answered him. "Look, you can't really be John Lennon because this sort of thing doesn't happen in real life." _It only happens in my daydreams_, she thought to herself. "I'm a scientist. I know all about these kinds of things and time travel is impossible. At least for the time being. I mean, I guess there's always the possibility despite everything it entails, but that won't be until way off in the future. We don't even have the means for that sort of technology yet. I'm not even sure if any is being developed and…" Maggie trailed off, realizing she was rambling. "You're not real," she repeated. Remembering the photo suddenly, she turned and studied the walls, wondering if it would still be there or if it had simply been replaced by the real John. No, it was still there. She started inspecting it with both her eyes and hands, as if hoping that it may hold the key to the answer of her current dilemma. She couldn't help but notice that the photo was rather newer looking than it had been when she'd started staring at it. It was no longer yellowed with age.

John smiled at that, still not sure what she was going on about, but amused by her refusal to believe that he was, in fact, real. "I could pinch you," he offered.

Maggie stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. "What?"

"I could pinch you," he repeated. "It would tell us whether or not you are, in fact, dreaming - that you're not really here in 1964, that you are tucked blissfully away in your own little bed somewhere, preferably slumbering naked. And most importantly, it would give me a thrill."

Maggie stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, not really sure if the laughter came from the absurdity of the situation, or his words itself. Shaking her head, she began to try and take in her surroundings. It looked like EMI, only it was a bit more dated than she remembered it. Turning her back to John she peered down the hall, trying to see if the tour group was still around. 1964? He was obviously crazy, hallucinating, or both. Or maybe she was the one hallucinating.

John smiled at her, as she turned her back towards him in obvious frustration. Shrugging, he reached forward, pinching her bum and laughing as she squeaked in surprise. He took a step back as she turned around, staring at him in shock. He responded by looking at the ceiling and whistling innocently at their little exchange.

Maggie felt her world spin once again as she stared at him and suddenly realized that this was either a very real dream, or that this was, in fact, really happening.

"Oh, God," she breathed, a shudder running through her body as the blood drained from her face.

John frowned at that; all he had done was pinch her bum. So far this bird had been acting very differently. She was dressed wrong, she wasn't trying to pull out his hair, she wasn't in the usual fan hysterics, clinging to his arm and screaming his name, and most importantly, she didn't seem to want anything from him. This wasn't just some fan girl that had snuck into the studio. This girl was something else and she was currently confused as hell. Watching the first signs of panic streak her face, John reached out to her once more.

"Come along, now," he said gently, taking her by the arm again, hoping that the soft pressure he exerted on her shoulder would bring her back to reality, at least for the time being. "I think you could probably use a little air. You know, to help clear your head a bit." She looked up at him with wild eyes as he steadily began to lead her towards the roof, keeping his steps slow and steady so as not to rush her.

Opening the door, the cool air rushed over them and Maggie couldn't help but close her eyes and breathe in a sigh of relief. It soothed her heated cheeks, washing away the suffocation that had been surrounding her in that little studio hall. She had broken free of the compression and the weight she had been feeling. John let her stand there for a moment before leading her over to the railing and leaning her gently against it.

Taking residence by her side, John made sure to keep some distance between them, not wanting to crowd her and also still feeling a little apprehensive about the girl next to him. Turning his eyes to the brick that lay against the opposite wall, John stared at it, trying to make sense of the situation at hand. From what he could get from her earlier mumblings, the girl believed she was from the future. And at the moment, John was inclined to believe her. Her method of arrival was enough to ensure that.

"So," John began a little hesitantly, shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot. "When you're not popping out of thin air, what do you usually do?"

Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw the feigned nonchalance and had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "I'm a scientist at NASA," she said with a smile, shaking her head a little bit. If she really was dying in a coma, she might as well enjoy this dream while she could

John blinked, having expected anything but that from the girl beside him. "A what for whom? Birds can be scientists in the future?" He said jokingly, "A woman's place is at home in the kitchen." He grinned at her, knowing that this was bound to get a rise out of a woman such as herself.

Maggie glared, knowing he was having her on and fighting the urge to roll off the names of several women scientist right here in the present… the past… wherever it was she was at the moment. "Yes, women are scientists in the future," she said with a self-satisfied grin. "And pilots, and firefighters, and policemen, and lawyers, and doctors, and in the UK's case, Prime Ministers!" She smiled triumphantly as John pretended to stumble back with the force of her words. "We also have the right to vote and we're even allowed to drive cars." If the career choices hadn't impressed him, this at least had. His eyes widened almost comically, giving off the air of a child as he discovered something new for the first time.

"Amazing!" John exclaimed in joking astonished glee. "Driving cars even…" Shaking his head, he sighed. "God help us, the roads will never be safe again."

Maggie snorted at that, looking at him sarcastically, "Says the man who is renowned for his excellent driving skills!"

And with the brief exchange out of her mouth, it hit her.

This was John Lennon.

This wasn't a picture or a dream or a fantasy of hers. This was John Winston Lennon and the year was 1964 and the Beatles were still together. Feeling the air around her grow hot, Maggie sucked in a deep breath, finding it harder and harder to breathe as the seconds ticked by and her stomach jolted with sickening twists.

John felt helpless as she began to sway from side to side before abruptly falling to her knees. The color drained from her cheeks seconds before it happened and John had just enough time to swoop in and hold her hair from her face as she lost her breakfast all over the roof.

With her hands digging into the grimy concrete, and tears pricking her tightly closed eyes, Maggie felt the bile swell from her throat with a distinct burning sensation, offering a contrast to the cool hands brushing the nape of her neck. Coughing, she took in several deep breaths, sucking in mouthfuls of air and trying her hardest to keep what was left in her stomach, down.

As she began to breathe a little more regularly, John took out a hankie from his pocket, offering it to her as he stayed in his crouched position still holding back her hair. Maggie looked at him sideways, trying to gauge whether or not she could open her mouth yet without anything coming out. When she thought it was safe, she turned to him a little, taking the proffered hankie and wiping at her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbled a bit sheepishly. "That probably wasn't very lady-like of me."

With a wave of his hand, John shook his head. "Nonsense! It was very graceful the way you lost your breakfast all over the roof, wasn't it? I've never seen anyone vomit more elegantly." He smiled encouragingly at her while reaching out and gently tucking her hair behind her ears, causing his fingers to brush against her cheek.

Maggie smiled rather weakly at his attempts to diminish her embarrassment. With a deep breath and the scent of her own vomit stinging her senses, Maggie tried handing him back the hankie. "Thanks," she said.

Putting out his hand, John grasped hers tightly in his, moving to help her to her feet. He looked down at the handkerchief with a wrinkled nose, and shook his head. "Keep it," he said in mock disgust, laughing a little as she ducked her head in embarrassment again.

"Look, Maggie, was it?" At her affirmative nod he continued, "Look, you've said it yourself that you're a scientist and that this is impossible. Well, I say rather then get all wound up about how it happened, let's stay calm, and let's see if we can figure out how to get you back to your time." He squeezed her arm gently, feeling slightly crazy himself as he spoke. Then again, who was he to dismiss this? Anything was possible, right? "Of course," he said with a grin, "This is only after you tell me everything I should invest my money in, in order to ensure I never have to work a real job in my life." Maggie looked up at him, giving him a halfhearted smile at that. To John, it was enough. "Come on," he encouraged softly, keeping a firm hold of her hand, "Let's take you down to the studio to meet the other three. Mal's gone out for sandwiches. Maybe I can make you lose your lunch this time around."

That coaxed a real smile out of her and as the two of them headed towards the door, Maggie felt her clammy cheeks begin to return to normal, and the sweat on her forehead fade. Feeling much calmer, Maggie realized John was right; it was best to try to figure out how to get back home rather then dwell on how she got here. And now that she'd accepted she was actually in the past she found that she was much calmer and actually curious to get a look around. "Now," John started, "tell me all about this NASA business that you work for as a brilliant driving AND voting Scientist."

"I don't know if I can tell you anything," she said.

Stopping in his tracks, John frowned. "Why not?"

Turning to him, Maggie pulled away, pushing open the door to the studio with her back and looking at him in mock seriousness. "Because, then I'd have to kill you."

Disappearing into the hallway, she left a bewildered John Lennon on the rooftop. He stared after her, watching as the door shut with a screech, before smiling. With a snort of laughter, he went after her.

* * *

**A/N: **

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week. **

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	3. Chapter Two

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

After the initial storm of fear and queasy nerves, Maggie had calmed down and gotten her bearings. She walked beside John down the hall, both chatting with ease as they traded barbs back and forth and Maggie tried to explain her position as a scientist. Of course John, only wanting to know if the future held flying cars, life on Mars, and an industrial size box of corn flakes, constantly interrupted her.

"Uh, I think you can get some sort of off-brand version of it in a bag that's really big," she offered. John frowned. "What is the world coming to?" He muttered. "First women can drive and vote, and now they offer corn flakes in a bag instead of a box." He shook his head. "The next thing you'll be telling me is that Elvis works at a Las Vegas gas station and the Queen of England doesn't drink tea."

Maggie smiled. "Well, I can't really vouch for the Queen but there are plenty of people that claim to have seen Elvis pumping gas in Vegas. I hear he also does weddings."

John stopped in his tracks, looking at her as she continued to wind her way down the hall in laughter. She had to be joking. Coming up to her side, John's hand brushed against hers, and Maggie smiled. Turning to him she watched as he batted his eyelashes at her and said teasingly, "Stop trying to hold my hand, luv. I'm sorry, but I'm a married man and it just wouldn't be decent." Maggie felt herself laugh and roll her eyes, but inside she felt herself jump in excitement. _She had nearly held hands with John Lennon! _And to top it off, now she had "I Want to Hold Your Hand" running through her head!

As they reached the end of the hall, John pushed open the door without pretense, and yelled loudly at whoever would listen. "Where's my food?"

A dark-haired young man looked up from his position at the piano, and gave John a slight smile. "We've sent the slaves to go and get it for you, your Majesty. It should only be a few more moments." The boy stood and bowed deeply, waving his hand in a flourish.

"And the rest of my peons?" John laughed, looking down his nose at his friend.

"Dead, sir. They were making awful yawning noises during our last performance so I had to poison their tea."

John shook his head, clucking his tongue in mock anger. "It'll be the stockades for you then, Macca, my boy. And maybe if you're good, old Johnny here will give you the paddle."

Paul snorted in laughter. "You wish, you queer bastard."

John smiled, blowing a kiss to Paul, who caught it in his hand while grinning back at John, and held it to his heart like a fawning schoolgirl. "Where's Ritchie, then?" John asked.

Paul shrugged, dropping the act and frowning a little in confusion as he set his eyes on someone standing slightly behind John. "Uh- I don't know." Cocking his head to the side, Paul peered over his friend's shoulder. "I think he had to take a piss or something. Who's your friend?" he asked with a slight nod.

John turned, a smile reaching across his face. One that meant John was happy, though it only set off warning bells in Paul's head. He knew that look, and it never ended in anything good for Paul.

"Oh, this is…." But as John turned around to introduce Maggie to everyone, he found that she was already gone. In a flash she had raced across the studio, bolting towards George, exclaiming as she went, "Oh wow! It's George…" The lead guitarist's eyes widened a little as he took a step back, mentally cursing John for bringing a crazy fan into the studio like this without Mal or Neil present to take care of her. But then she stormed right past him, rushing by in a blur of color as she fell to her knees.

"…Harrison's 12 string Rickenbacker 360!" she squealed excitedly, motioning wildly to the guitar before her and barely restraining herself from clapping in glee. She didn't even give a second glance to its owner who stood bewildered by her side.

Paul raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between George, the guitar and the girl several times. "That's the first time I've seen a bird recognize the guitar before the Beatle," he commented, turning to John in search of an explanation. But John's eyes were focused on the kneeling figure of the girl before him and he looked on at her with awe and wonderment. She was definitely different.

The sound of Paul's voice seemed to snap Maggie out of her trance, pulling her away before she managed to drool on herself and the exquisite guitar in front of her. "Oh," she said sheepishly, pulling the hand that had been running up and down the neck of the guitar back to her side, shocked that she had been so bold as to touch it without asking. "I'm so sorry." Looking up at George she felt her cheeks heat and turn pink. "That was really rude, wasn't it?" Falling back on the balls of her feet, she smiled up at a bewildered George, sticking her hand out for him to shake. "I'm Maggie," she offered.

George smirked, giving a quick glance to the rest of the gang before sticking his own hand out and grasping hers. Shaking it, George looked at her with wry amusement. "George Harrison," he said slowly, "But you probably already know that."

With a small laugh, Maggie grinned sheepishly, still a bit embarrassed by her forward behavior. "Well, yeah… though I do have to admit that I'm a bit more excited about meeting your guitar. No offense, I hope?" she asked with a hopeful smile playing across her face.

Cocking his head to the side, George looked slightly surprised, but let another smirk slip across his lips. "No, none taken," he said with a bit of a laugh. Motioning to his guitar, he looked at Maggie curiously. "She's quite a beauty, isn't she?"

Maggie's eyes turned back towards the object in question, her pupils dilating and her breath quickening by the mere sight of it. George cocked his head to the other side, silent laughter playing across his lips. "How's the action?" she asked, throwing him a glance. "What kind of pickups are these?" Maggie stared longingly at the guitar, running her eyes up and down the body.

Turning to John, George let out a grin, flashing his teeth and almost jumping in excitement. "I like her!" With his piece being said, George slipped to his knees, scooting close to a girl he didn't even know, and for the first time, liking that a bird loved his guitar more than him. Just like they were old friends, they put their heads together, engaging in conversation over the guitar before them.

Paul surveyed the scene with a strong emotion beginning to well up inside him, thrashing about at the scene before him. This wasn't right. Normally Paul could care less what his friends did with birds on their own time, but this was the studio. This was different.

As George and the girl became immersed in talk of whether or not the neck of the guitar was too narrow for its twelve strings, Paul made his way over to John. John stared idly at the two, an amused expression across his face and a captivated smile slowly beginning to take control.

Leaning against the wall next to him, Paul crossed his arms. "So, where'd you get her?" Paul asked lightly, trying not to sound too defensive just yet. There was probably a perfectly acceptable explanation for what was going on. This was probably just another one of John's whims after all. After all, who the hell did this girl think she was, waltzing into _their _studio like that, dressed the way she was, and shoving her way into their circle? And what was John thinking bringing her here? This was the recording studio for God's sake! No wives, no girlfriends, and definitely no crazy fans! Those had always been the rules.

John turned towards Paul, seeing the undeniable clench of his friend's jaw and the way his eyes had taken on a slightly darker color. He laughed a little, swinging an arm over Paul's shoulder and squeezing it. "Would you believe me if I told you she just fell out of the sky?"

Paul looked at him skeptically, shrugging John's arm from his shoulder. "I'm serious, John," he said, taking a step back from him. "Where the hell did she come from? You can't just pick crazy fans up off the street and bring them into the studio whenever the hell you feel like it. We've got work to do, and no time for this nonsense," he hissed, trying to keep his voice down so as not to alarm the girl on the floor with George. If she really was a nutter, he didn't want to set her off.

John bristled at that, and snapped his eyes to Paul, warning him silently. "Good thing I didn't do that then." Irritation flashed in Paul's eyes and John knew that in order for Paul to understand, he'd have to go into a little more of an explanation. Sighing, John closed his eyes briefly before looking at his friend. "Look," he started. "I'm telling you, she just appeared out of nowhere. I was just walking down the hall and then suddenly there she was, right in front of me." Paul gave a disbelieving laugh as he shot John a glare, thinking his friend was obviously having him on. "I'm serious!" John exclaimed. Paul rolled his eyes and leaned back hotly against the wall again.

Realizing how it all must sound, John looked towards Maggie for some sort of help. She and George had begun to wrap up their conversation and he watched as she stood, George's guitar strap swung across her shoulder.

The next thing John was aware of was Paul pushing away from the wall and stalking over to their side in a flash. With a raised brow he gave Maggie a brief sweep of the eyes, running them up and down her body and sizing up his competition so to speak.

"You play the guitar?" Paul demanded suspiciously, obviously not believing that the likes of her could even pluck out a note let alone actually play the thing in her hands.

"Well, yeah, of course…" Maggie said trailing off, slightly taken aback by the tone of his voice. Frowning, she turned her attention back to the beauty in her hands, getting a feel for it, and drawing strength from its weight. "Why, is that weird to you?" She strummed out a few notes, smiling as they wove their way around the room clearly and precise, painting the air with an intensity and flavor that only music could.

Paul opened his mouth, about to shoot off some sort of response, but George beat him to it. "What kind of guitar do you have?" he asked excitedly, obviously enamored with the girl before him. Paul crossed his arms. It seemed to be an epidemic of some sort.

"I've got a few, but my favorite is my Fender Strat," she replied with a slight shrug, closing her eyes, and strumming the guitar once more, clearly lost in the sound and the feel of the guitar, and not really aware of her surroundings any longer.

"Oh, I've always wanted one of those!" George said wistfully, wondering how she had even got one.

"Oh, they're great," Maggie gushed, turning excited eyes towards him. "I like the way the top is curved so that it's really comfortable for your arm..."

"How did you get in here?" Paul abruptly asked, interrupting the two of them before they could slip back into another long-winded conversation about guitars. He was going to get to the bottom of this so they could deal with it and go back to their normal lives. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to John. "And just what were you smoking when she supposedly "popped" out of the air, eh?" John didn't say anything, only crossed his arms, readying himself for a Macca rant. But Paul took this as a sign of his impending win. With a smirk on his face, he turned back to Maggie, a disbelieving look raising his brow. "And a Fender Strat? You have an **electric** guitar? You've got a Fender Stratocaster? You!?"

George frowned at that, the wistful adoration that filled his features just moments before morphing into skepticism. He was after all, talking to a GIRL about guitars. "Yeah," he said, crossing his arms and feeling like he had just been fooled. "Why do you have an electric guitar? How'd you get a Fender Stratocaster?"

Maggie bit her lip, not sure how to answer them. They would never believe the full truth. John did, but then he saw the method of her arrival. Tugging on her lip, Maggie felt the nausea ring back through her. Somehow, this was not turning out to be as fun as she always imagined, and slowly that familiar fear and panic began to sweep through her again. Shouldn't the Beatles be falling all over themselves to love her and be her friend because she was obviously so cool? They always did in her daydreams… While Maggie knew she categorized her life into two different sides, her dreams and the scientific reality, she also knew that this situation didn't fit into either and that only served to scare her even more. In her daydreams Paul was not suspicious, jealous and mistrustful. No, he was kind, and adorable like a cute little brother who looked up to her. And George, well, what was he doing doubting her?! As for Ringo…well in her fantasies Ringo was most definitely here, and not in the bathroom. And John, well, no, actually John so far had been exactly as she expected. Only, in her daydreams he wasn't married. Frowning a bit at that last thought she realized the room had grown tense and quiet, with all three of them, even John, staring at her expectantly.

Exasperated, she sighed and thought, _They don't think women can play guitar, or are on equal footing with them, that's fine. I'll show 'em. They have no idea what's about to hit 'em._ She smiled tightly at the three of them. "Why shouldn't I have one?" She said with a bit of a raised brow, mostly directed towards Paul. "Last I checked in addition to driving and voting, women can play guitars too, even electric guitars." She looked pointedly at John when she said this, and then realized when he tossed her a wink, that he was just curious about how she got the guitar, and didn't doubt her playing ability. Laughing to herself she gave him an overly exaggerated wink back. The exchange only served as yet another irritation in Paul's eyes. His mouth quickly quirked down as he crossed his arms protectively in front of him, positioning himself slightly between the girl and John.

"Besides," Maggie went on, only slightly aware of Paul's reaction. She was more concerned at the moment of making her point, than she was over Paul's jealousy. "I'm in a rock band. I'm rhythm guitar and lead vocals. You know, I actually learned to play guitar because of you guys." She admitted a little sheepishly. She couldn't help but wonder how she was still standing. Her body was a mass of nerves and her emotions were playing all throughout the place. First she was flirty, then in awe, then scared and then defiant all in a matter of a few moments.

Paul's eyes narrowed. Now he knew she was putting them all on. They had only just become big in America giving her not nearly enough time to actually learn how to play the guitar. He was about to tell her that much when George interrupted, a confused expression on his face.

"Sorry, luv. I don't mean to offend you or anything like that, but girls just aren't in rock bands." He tried to put it as delicately as possible, but a touch of laughter at the idea that a girl was in a rock band laced his words.

Maggie bit her bottom lip again, trying to decide how much she should tell them. They already thought she was crazy; so to say that she was from the future probably wouldn't be that far of a stretch for them to handle. But she shied away from it for a moment, trying to beat her way around the bush. "Where I come from, girls are in rock bands all the time."

Paul snorted. "Where is that? America?"

"Well, yes. And…" Taking a deep breath, she looked to John for support, wondering if she should go through with it. John nodded his head and gave her a quick smile of encouragement. From his position, Paul watched the interaction, clearly not amused by it all. If she already had John on her side, the others would be quick to follow. "And…I'm kinda, well, that is to say…," she hesitated, knowing just how crazy she was about to sound. "I'm not quite sure how to put this… I'm from … the future," she finished lamely.

Silence, and then abrupt laughter quickly filled the room as both George and Paul burst out into fits of giggles, Paul nearly doubling over with the ridiculousness of it all.

"Good one, Lennon," George called out. "You really had us all going there for a minute."

Paul leaned back against the wall, smiling to himself, wiping away a fresh batch of tears from his eyes. "Geez, John. She's good. Just where did you get her?"

While the others laughed, John frowned at them. His brow darkening, he felt the irritation knot at the back of his neck. "She's telling the truth, Paul."

"Oh, that's right." Paul laughed. "She just popped out of thin air. I forgot."

"Look," John said, stepping forward and directing more of his irritation towards Paul. George quieted down, listening to John, his amusement slowly slipping from his face. "I told you, I was walking down the hall and then she just appeared, if she's not from where she says she is, then how did that happen?"

Paul gave John a patronizing look, talking down to him as if he were a child and patted him on the shoulder. "The pills you popped today probably had something to do with it."

"Fuck off, Paul," John said, shoving the hand away from his shoulder as he heard Paul burst back into laughter.

"Oh come on, John," Paul called out in disbelief. "You can't actually expect us to believe that she's from the future. That's impossible."

George looked at Maggie, taking in her appearance. They had been right when they told her that girls didn't play in rock bands. At least not now, in 1964. So how did she know so much about guitars, and how did she get her hands on a Fender Strat?

"I don't know, Paul. It may actually explain a few things," George mumbled, reluctantly, not quite believing that he had said it.

"You can't be serious?" Paul said, turning to George. "You're not actually believing this, are you?" He gestured towards Maggie, dismissing her almost with a wave of his hand. "This is just one of John's pranks that he's carried way too far."

George shrugged. "I'm just not ruling it out, that's all."

"Oh for fuck's sake, George," Paul groaned. From the corner, John smirked, crossing his arms in satisfaction. Paul bristled at the situation, irritated by the amused gaze from John and the hesitant one from George. "Fine," he stated, turning to Maggie, determined to show them what a fraud she actually was. She may have been able to pull the wool over their eyes for a little while but she wasn't about to win this little game of hers. "Prove it," he demanded.

Maggie frowned. "What?"

"You say you're from the future, then prove it."

"Christ, Paul," John groaned from the corner. "She said she was from the future. That doesn't mean she can levitate or anything."

"No," Maggie said, taking a step forward. She was actually surprised that the demand hadn't come a lot earlier. "No, he's right. He needs proof. " _Hell, I need proof_, she thought to herself. Standing there, she thought for a moment, trying to think of something to do or say that might make this all more believable. With the way Paul was looking at her, she knew it had to be good. "Okay," she said slowly. "Do you have any song ideas that the others haven't heard about yet?" she asked.

Ticking his gaze to the ground, Paul thought for a moment before coming up with one. "Yeah, I've been working on one for my Auntie Gin. She seems to like the tune well enough."

Maggie nodded. "Okay. Give me a hint to what it is and I bet I can play it for you." _Please be one I know!_ she thought to herself. She knew she was taking a gamble that he would select one she didn't really know, but since she'd dropped her purse before "appearing" here, she couldn't think of any other way to prove it.

The corner of Paul's mouth quirked up into a grin, the warm feeling of winning washing over him. "Fallin' yes I am fallin' and she keeps callin' me back again," he sang, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied smirk, knowing that he had just proven her a fraud.

Maggie smiled, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It was one she knew how to play. "Oh! 'I've Just Seen a Face'! I love that one." Strumming her fingers quickly across the strings once more, Maggie launched into the song without hesitation, singing it as loud as she could while bouncing her head along to the fast paced rhythm. Paul's smile slipped from his face.

John's bark of laughter echoed through the room as he saw Paul pale. "Unless she's been hiding in the cupboard of your music room, Paul, I'd say she's got you on that one."

Paul swallowed dryly, feeling slightly unnerved by the whole exchange as he watched John go up to her, and give her a warm pat on the back as the blood rushed through his ears. It had to have been some sort of coincidence.

"It's a good one though." John said off-handedly. "Why haven't you shared it with me yet?"

"I, uh-" Paul blinked and swallowed, shaking his head to try and clear it a little. "I've been saving up ideas for the album to go with 'Eight Arms To Hold You'."

Maggie snorted before she could stop herself, and then quickly covered her mouth with both hands when three pairs of eyes turned to stare at her outburst, John's right eyebrow cocked up curiously. "Um, you may just want to think of a new title for your movie is all," she said by way of explanation, a note of apology coloring her voice.

"There's no way you could have known that though," Paul protested thinking only of his song. "We don't start shooting 'til March. That's half a year away."

"I'm just impressed that she's heard a Paul song before me." John laughed clearly amused by seeing Paul so clearly rocked by it all. And by a bird no less. Turning to Maggie, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning into her with a shifty look. "You're going to need to clue me into all of Paul's best songs. Then the two of us can team up and record them instead. We'll split the profits 80/20!" He shot Paul a teasing look, but Paul only turned away, scowling. "Oh come on, Paulie," John laughed. "I was only joking."

Walking over to his bass, a scowl set firmly against his lips, Paul replied, "We have work to do." John rolled his eyes, watching as his friend fell into yet another one of his strategic silent treatments.

"I thought we were going to wait until Mal gets back from the canteen with our lunch," George commented.

Throwing the strap over his shoulder, Paul looked at George out of the corner of his eye. "I just want to run through some stuff. That way we're not wasting anyone's time when it comes time to record."

"Come off it, Paul," John muttered. "Take a breather. Ringo's not even back yet to play. We can't do a proper run through without drums and we all know how you are when it comes to being proper. The way I remember it, is that we have to do it right, or we don't do it at all. Isn't that what you keep telling me?" Paul glared as he ignored John, picking at his bass sullenly, plucking out a note or two.

Maggie looked back and forth between all of them, wondering if maybe music would let the tension ease a little. Slightly hesitant and afraid of sticking her nose where it didn't belong, Maggie took a deep breath. She wanted to help them seeing as she was the cause of the tension in the room. "I know how to play the drums a bit. I'm not great with the cuts but I can keep a beat." Both John and George looked at her in amusement and astonishment. "If you want, I could run through some stuff with you guys until Ringo gets back. But only if it would help. I don't want to intrude more then I already have," she offered, looking at them hesitantly, almost afraid to see how they would react. Truth be told, she was almost hoping they would say no. At least that way the pressure would be off of her.

Paul had raised his head for a quick excuse as to why she couldn't play but before he could say anything, John moved and snatched up Ringo's sticks, tossing them to her with a grin. "You never told me they let birds play drums in the future too," he teased.

Sitting down and feeling her heart beat rapidly against her chest, Maggie gave the snare a few taps. She did it under the pretense of trying to get a feel for it, but knew it was only a stall tactic as she tried to calm herself down. While playing with the Beatles was a dream to any musician, Maggie couldn't shrug the feeling that it just didn't feel right. But John was standing in front of her, smiling at her gently.

"What else are you keeping from me, eh?"

Pushing down her nerves, she tossed John a wicked look. "I forgot to tell you that you have twelve more children and that all of them are girls."

A look of fear crossed John's face and for a moment he believed her. Maggie smiled at him though, sending both George and John into peals of laughter.

Moving over to his guitar, John picked it up, and went straight into 'No Reply'. Maggie grinned to herself, drumming along to the beat and singing quietly under her breath. John caught her eye though, nodding encouragingly and soon her voice rose. She laughed at the incredulity of the situation. When she woke up this morning, she never expected to be singing with The Beatles, playing with The Beatles, and on Ringo's very own Ludwig drum kit no less! It took every bit of self-control that she had not to squeal with delight at the entire situation. Her fan-girl heart danced about excitedly, especially when John grinned right back at her, catching her expression and reading her thoughts. Paul, watching the entire interplay between the two, stood back, his mood darkening as the song played on.

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**A/N: **

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week. **

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	4. Chapter Three

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

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Chapter Three**

They rolled right on through into "Baby's In Black" and Maggie grinned as she watched John try his hardest to take Paul out of his mood. Paul only stared straight ahead, though, while singing, ignoring the faces John was making towards him and concentrating on his music. John just shrugged after a while, recognizing that this wasn't going to be an easy fix. It was just another one of Paul's little sullen pouts that he went on every once in a while. John considered it a type of PMS. Once a month Paul would get himself worked up and the rest of them would just have to deal with his bitchy attitude. Eventually it would pass.

The door opened to their side as they ended the song, revealing a very confused drummer leaning against the doorjamb, staring, more than a little surprised at the rest of the group. "First you go on tour without me when I had my tonsils pulled, and then I leave to use the loo and you grab the first mad fan in the hall to keep a beat." He looked at each one of them in turn. "Very funny, mates." Maggie bit her already worried lower lip, clearly seeing that the drummer was not amused.

"Ringo's funny about his drums, you know," George commented from the side, placing his guitar back on the stand.

"I know," Maggie said. Rising from her seat, she smiled warmly at Ringo and handed him back his sticks promptly. Ringo looked down at them for a moment before turning back to the girl, softening a little. "They loom large in his legend." Maggie smiled as Ringo laughed a bit at the bad joke. He quickly gave her a once over eventually deciding she was okay; anyone who could play drums couldn't be all bad right?

Looking around the room, Ringo noticed the smiles on each of his friends' faces as they went about putting their instruments up. Smiles on all except Paul. He just sat in the corner, fiddling with his bass as a scowl grew across his face. Ringo frowned and turned to John.

"What's his problem? He's acting like we broke his favorite toy."

John just shook his head, waving Ringo off before going over to Maggie's side and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Ringo, my friend, I would like you to meet Maggie."

Ringo smiled. "Nice to meet you, Maggie."

"She's from the future," John said is if he were mentioning it looked like rain outside.

Ringo paused at that, his hand outstretched in greeting but freezing as he looked up at John. John smiled at him, offering nothing more. Quickly Ringo turned to George, trying to figure out if John was having him on or not. When George met his eyes, he shrugged in agreement though, leaving Ringo in an even deeper state of confusion.

"Okay," Ringo said slowly. "I've obviously missed something."

"She popped right out of the bloody air, mate!" John exclaimed excitedly, obviously not finding the entire situation odd anymore. "She even stumped dear little Macca over there by playing one of his songs that's been swimming around in that pretty head of his. It set him into a bloody pout again but it wiped that self-satisfied smirk off his face, so it was worth it." John grinned, noticing how Paul didn't even acknowledge his words. "And, to make things even better, she's in a rock band."

Ringo looked at them skeptically, obviously not as quick to jump on the bandwagon as John and George had been. Although, he also wasn't as quick to deny it as Paul seemed to be trying to do.

"Can you prove it to me?" Ringo asked, looking at Maggie curiously.

Maggie bit the corner of her mouth, smiling at him apologetically. "I can't really prove it by singing any of your songs but if it's any consolation, one of the songs you wrote was my favorite when I was a little girl." Ringo looked a little taken aback by that and Maggie could only nod encouragingly. "It's true. So if you ever go to Greece and get inspired by octopuses, just go with it."

John laughed at that, clapping Ringo on the shoulders. "Now we know you're having us on, luv. Ringo write a song?" He gave his friend a teasing shove, but Ringo only looked at Maggie intently, pondering what she had just said. Tilting his head to the side, puzzled by the cryptic comment, he shook his head, accepting the words of advice good-naturedly.

A sound rang from the corner of the room as Paul stood up, pushing his bass roughly onto his stand and mumbling something about going to go find what was keeping George M. and Geoff. They needed to get recording again. Before anyone had the chance to respond, he was out the door.

Not fazed, John picked up Paul's bass and slung it over his shoulder as he handed Maggie his black Rickenbacker. "Let's play something. Knowing Paul he's probably going to be gone for a while. He needs to get a full sulk in." The rest nodded, picking up their separate instruments and readying themselves to play. "Maggie, you pick." John encouraged.

Maggie held his guitar gingerly, not quite believing that John Lennon's black and white Rickenbacker was in her arms. Then it sunk it that John was wearing Paul's famous Hofner violin bass. "But you're not left handed!" she blurted.

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked, and then realizing she was staring at Paul's bass slung over his shoulders he explained. "Oh, this. Well, I can pluck out a few basic bass lines with my left hand. It's not great, but fine for a bit of jamming. Come on now, pick something."

Maggie paused for a moment. _This can't be happening! It's too good to be true!_ she thought. Shaking her head at the wonder of it all, the perfect song popped into her head and she launched into the opening riff of "One after 909". The other three followed her lead with ease, laughing as they rolled their way through it, with Maggie taking over Paul's harmony line. As the song ended, George picked up the slack, shooting into "Roll over Beethoven" and the rest followed naturally. Music wove in and out of the room as they continued to play and sing, laughing as they improvised here and there, harmonizing with one another and giggling when one of them would hit a wrong note. It was all in good fun.

They didn't notice that Mal had long since returned with their sandwiches and was now staring in their direction with bewilderment. They didn't even notice when the door opened again ushering Paul, George Martin and company back into the room. George M. stopped for a moment, staring at the scene with shock at what he saw. Paul just looked increasingly annoyed.

Tapping his foot, Paul crossed his arms, waiting for them to wrap up the last of their songs before shooting a pointed look at John. "Right lads, are we going to make a record today or not?" He smiled thinly, holding his hands out to John, clearly showing that he wanted his bass back.

As they were jolted out of the warm haze of music they had been playing in, they all shot reluctant looks at Paul, but finally nodding their heads in agreement. Maggie knew she couldn't stand in the way of their recording, nor did she want to, so without a fight, she surrendered the guitar back to John. The moment it was out of her hand though, she didn't know what to do. She knew she couldn't really leave the studio, not having anywhere to go once she got outside those doors, but she also knew that they needed to get back to work. Swallowing a little, she began to look towards the door, wondering just what she should do.

"Would you like to come up to the booth and have a listen?" Maggie's attention snapped towards the door as she looked at George Martin, surprised at his offer.

"That would be great," she said with a relieved smile, glancing at John to make sure it was okay. He smiled at her, giving her all the approval she needed. "Thank you." Before she left the studio, John grabbed a few sandwiches, handing one to her before hurriedly stuffing his mouth with his own. He winked as he let George M. lead her away, up into the sound booth so she could watch as they got ready to record.

The sounds of chords being strummed and lyrics being discussed floated into the control booth as The Beatles got down to business. John kept tossing small glances up towards Maggie, George and Ringo even catching her eye at times and grinning, while Paul pointedly ignored her.

The hours ticked by before they finally broke for dinner. Maggie came down from the booth, going straight for John, noticing out of the corner of her eye the look Paul shot at her before going back to his bass as if everything was business as usual in EMI.

"So, Future Girl," John smiled broadly, propping his guitar up against the stand. "Tell us more." Maggie smiled back, watching as they all turned to her expectantly. Well, all except Paul. As she stood and looked at the four men before her, Maggie swallowed, her grin slowly fading. If this was really happening, and she wasn't altogether convinced yet that it was, then she needed to do something. She had been wasting time joking about their future songs when she had a real chance to change things, to prevent the tragedies to come from happening.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as George took something out of his pocket. Turning to him, she felt her stomach flip flop and her head swim as he slowly lit up a cigarette, touching the nicotine filled paper to his lips.

"I think she's going to throw up," George commented, watching the girl turn pale as he took a drag on his cigarette.

"Maggie, luv," John stepped forward a little hesitantly, wondering if they were about to have a repeat performance of the roof. "What is it?"

Maggie's eyes narrowed in on that burning ember, watching the ash tick down to the ground, falling through the thin air and ceasing to exist about half way down. She could feel her heart thump quickly in her chest and she suddenly had the insane urge to go over to George and rip the cigarette from his hand.

"Maggie," John said again, gaining her attention this time. She looked at him for a moment before turning back to George and shaking her head.

"Take my advice." She looked at George. "You may want to stop smoking."

With the ciggy half way to his mouth, George froze. He looked at her suspiciously, feeling a sort of chill run up and down his spine at her words. "Why?"

"Just trust me. It'll save your life."

George blinked, feeling her words had been deliberately picked. Without another thought, he stubbed out the cigarette, staring at the ash in the tray with a hint of fear.

The tension in the room was palpable, as all four Beatles suddenly turned somber. Each looked at George in growing trepidation; their eyes slowly caught on the burnt nub of the cigarette and suddenly the fun that had surrounded them these past few hours dissipated right along with the fallen embers. Swallowing nervously at the silence, George fumbled around for another cigarette and lit it up before he realized what he had done. If possible, the tension heightened and as he looked up, he noticed each of his friends looking at him hesitantly. Quickly glancing back down to the burning paper between his fingers in horror, he quickly stubbed it out.

"Here," he said, handing the pack over to Maggie and smiling sheepishly. "I think you'd better keep these." It was enough to crack through tension gripping the room and everyone was able to laugh a bit, but still remained wary of what Maggie had just implied.

Now that it was out there, Maggie felt a sense of bravery overcome her. Turning to Ringo, she took a deep breath. "And you, you need to lay off the drinking." Ringo frowned, glancing at his band mates a little nervously. He didn't drink any more than the rest of them. "It'll save you years of pain and it'll save your family a lot of grief," Maggie said pointedly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie spotted Paul. He had been sitting there, pretending not to listen ever since George had put out his second cigarette and was now fiddling with his bass like it was his sole purpose in life. Maggie felt herself sigh a little at this, hoping that he would simply heed the words of this stranger who he obviously didn't trust one bit. "And Paul?" she started. Paul perked up a little, stopping his relentless tuning at the very least, and choosing to cock his head in her general direction and grunt his acknowledgment that he heard her. "Make sure your future wife gets frequent breast cancer screenings. Convince her to get one as soon as you know she's the one and keep having her get them."

Paul frowned, ice rushing through his blood. That's how his mother had died. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked fearfully.

Maggie just stared at him, not knowing how much she should tell him. The brief moment of fear passed though for Paul as he snorted a little to himself at the fact that he had just believed the crazy ramblings of a girl who thought she had the right to simply walk into this studio and take over. Turning back to his bass, Paul went back to his active non-listening.

Maggie sighed a little as she saw him try to tune her out once more. There wasn't really much more she could do. She had to just trust that when the time came, he'd recall her words.

When Maggie turned away from him, she caught sight of John, and she couldn't help but feel a slight jolt of panic. This was going to be the hard part.

Looking to John, Maggie gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. The look on his face was anything but helpful though as he stared at her; written on his face was fear at what he sensed was about to roll off her lips. There was a reason why she looked more afraid for him then she had the others, and their tragedies had been pretty bad. Cancer, death, and alcoholism? What was in store for him?

"On December 8, 1980, you and your wife are going to go into the studio to record," she said, the difficult words starting to come to her.

"What? Me and Cyn record? Music?" John's confusion was evident.

Maggie didn't bother to answer, and just pressed on, knowing that if she stopped now, she'd never garner the courage to tell him. "There's going to be a man outside of the building you live in and he's going to ask you to sign his copy of your latest album. Sign it for him, and get a good look at him, so you can identify him later. After you do, go straight to the police and tell them that someone with a gun threatened you outside of your home. Get the police to pick him up."

John looked at her with wide eyes, staring at her and searching her form for any sign that this may be a lie. George and Ringo looked on in shock, and Paul stood up, no longer feigning ignoring her words, and went protectively to John's side.

"What happens?" Paul asked her. "Why are you telling him this?"

"Because if I don't, he's going to die." She turned back to John, barely able to get the next sentence out, but feeling she had no choice. "If you don't get the police to arrest him, when you come home and get out of your car and walk to your apartment door, he's going to shoot you in the back. You'll bleed to death on the way to the hospital." Maggie hung her head, tears stinging her eyes. She'd always mourned John's death even though she'd been too young to remember it. But now it was worse. However improbably, she'd actually met him and found that they had a sort of connection, and now she'd have to mourn him for real. Unless she could save him.

The silence reigned over the room in a deafening pandemonium, seeping into their hearts and gripping all of them with fear. Audible swallows sounded, shifting of eyes, and no matter how crazy they thought the situation was, no matter how unbelievable it seemed for a girl from the future to suddenly appear and tell them all of sorrows to come, they still couldn't shake the cold chills that ran up and down their spines. They felt the truth of her words.

"Please," Maggie begged to John alone, allowing her vulnerability to show, hoping that he would remember her words years from now. "If anything, wear a bullet proof vest. If you don't believe me, just take that one precaution that day. What can it hurt?"

John swallowed, cold sweat breaking out on his brow as sounds of an unheard gunshot rang through his ears. Clearing his throat, John tried to smile, fully aware of the looks of horror that played across his friends' lips. "Well, at least now when they ask us how we think we're going to die I can always say that I'll be popped off by a madman." He tried to joke, tried to make light of a situation that was years off but weighing heavily on all of their shoulders by now. At his words Paul moved away and both Ringo and George looked down, all of them failing to see any humor. Maggie was the only one who kept eye contact, trying to reveal with her eyes that he needed to listen.

"Hey," he said softly, looking around the room. "It's not like it's going to happen tomorrow. She said 1980, not 1964. I still have a good fifteen years left."

"John…" Paul started. John quickly cut him off though, ending the conversation.

"All this serious talk has made me hungry. You boys fancy getting a bite?" They wanted to press forward, to learn more, but there was something in the tone of John's voice that told them that this was the end of the conversation and they knew from experience that they were better off just letting the situation drop.

Dinner from the canteen was delivered to them by Mal, and the conversation stayed safely on the topics of sex and music; topics that Maggie found herself laughing about along with the boys. As the talk turned to what was going on later that night, Maggie listened in curiously as they chatted about a party, one that they had to attend for business reasons, although Maggie could tell by the looks on their faces, there would be more than just business on their agenda tonight.

"You should come," John said to Maggie, taking a quick swig of his coke. Paul frowned at the invitation, sitting back a little in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't bother the girl, John. I'm sure she has other things she needs to be doing at the moment."

"And if she does I'm sure she'll be the one to tell us so," John said through a sickening smile at Paul. Turning back to Maggie, his grin became more inviting as he leaned forward a bit. "What do you say, Maggie? Want come with us tonight?"

With a quick glance at Paul, Maggie knew that the Beatle was less than thrilled with the idea. "I uh-" she started, turning her gaze away from Paul's challenging look. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense!" Ringo encouraged, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Believe me, you'd not be intruding."

"Yeah," George agreed, "It's just a party."

Maggie turned her gaze back towards Paul, looking at him a bit fearfully, knowing that he was rapidly starting to think of her as a "Yoko." Quickly she did away with that line of thinking though, knowing that that path only lead to a wildly beating heart and images she couldn't afford to indulge in at the moment. Closing her eyes, Maggie shook her head, trying to rid the images from her mind. While she would give almost anything to be in the position that Yoko Ono had occupied in another lifetime, she knew at the same time that she was quite possibly ruining a friendship that still had a good few years left in it.

As she turned to look at Paul she locked eyes with the man who was calm on the outside but showed everything he wanted her to see on the inside. He sat back in his seat, arms still crossed in front of his chest in a defensive manner, looking at her as if to say, "I dare you." He was, after all, here first and when it came down to a girl versus his band, he would fight for his band. There was no way in hell he was going to let some American bird come along and mess things up between them all. This was his band, not hers and as far as he was concerned, John was his too.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she said, ducking her head and breaking eye contact with the man in front of her. She would not be remembered for breaking up The Beatles. Besides, she only wanted to go to see more of John, and there was still that small detail that he was married.

John watched the exchange, watched as Paul put on his typical McCartney intimidation act, the one he learned back home in Liverpool and the one he perfected in Hamburg. With a roll of his eyes, John shook his head, smiling sweetly at Maggie. "Like the boys said, that's nonsense, luv. We all want you to come. Even Paulie here wants your company for the night." Paul turned sharply to John at that, a protest clearly shooting from his eyes, but John ignored it, choosing to instead turn to Paul sweetly, and jabbing him under the table with his foot. "Don't you, Macca?"

They locked eyes, trading words silently, fighting it out mentally without even twitching a finger. A thin smile appeared on Paul's lips sooner then she expected, as he turned back to Maggie. And Paul, always the politician, always the PR man, had perfected that smile to a T. Maggie knew that back in the 60's, he could get away with murder if only he flashed that smile. The one that screamed he was innocent while he was nearly boiling inside. She had the advantage though. The hours spent in the chat rooms back home dissecting this bands' every move was not for nothing and she knew that the smile she received now was false and forced and hid that cool acid barbed tongue like no other.

"Sure," Paul said with a smile, pushing away from the table. "Bring her along. After all, what's another bird, anyway?" Nodding his head politely to her, he left the studio.

The rest of the group was helpless as they heard the door slam shut, footsteps distancing themselves down the empty hall. John narrowed his eyes at the doorway, wondering not for the first time today, what exactly had gotten into his friend.

"Er," he started, turning back to Maggie with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about that. He doesn't normally act this way. I don't know what's got into him."

Maggie's eyes remained focused on that shut door as she sighed softly. "I think I do," she whispered.

John frowned. "Come again?"

Snapping out of it, Maggie turned her attention back to the group, smiling a little as she shook her head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter." John searched her eyes once more, trying to find the hidden truth behind that face, but Maggie quickly hid it, not wanting to start anything between these two. It wasn't her place. "Look, I'd love to go!" she said enthusiastically. "But I really don't have anything to wear. I mean, all I've got is what I'm wearing now, and I don't think that's going to pass muster."

Dressed like this at a party in the very heart of London was bound to make her stick out like a sore thumb and Maggie wasn't too fond of the idea of being asked who she was all night long. She didn't think it would bode well to start spreading that she was from the future. She'd probably end the night in a straight jacket in the loony bin if she did that!

John looked unconcerned as he motioned Mal forward, smiling slightly at the roadie. "Hey, Mal," he said, turning on one of his charming smiles, already knowing the man would do whatever he asked. "Can you run Maggie out to get a dress and maybe a change of clothes for tomorrow? Just charge it." Maggie opened her mouth to object but John quickly shut her off with a raise of his hand and a coy look. "And no protests luv. You can pay me back when you teach me all of Paul's big hits before he writes them." With a single wink he had managed to get her up and out of her chair and following Mal out into the middle of town in search of the perfect dress.

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**A/N: **

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week. **

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	5. Chapter Four

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of historical fiction.

**

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Chapter Four**

They split in their different directions almost the moment they arrived at the party, as the music took on a life of its own all around them. Bodies moved and danced, people talked in shadowed corners, pictures were snapped and alcohol consumed. Maggie knew that it was a cleaner party than the ones that they would thrust themselves into in their near future. They had been right. This was business. They just planned to make it pleasure as well.

Drifting nearly to opposite corners of the room, each Beatle was clearly after their own comfort for the night. John was the only one who didn't seem interested in pulling a bird though. For once, what he had in front of him was satisfying enough.

Just prior to leaving for the party, Maggie had entered back into the studio as the Beatles were all finishing up for the day; the smile on John's face was hard to miss, and hard not to return. Even Paul gave her an appreciative glance when he saw her, kicking himself moments later for eyeing what he was subconsciously considering the enemy. She had found the perfect dress for the night, colored a deep red and for all its appeal, it had a hefty price tag that went along with it….as near as she could tell, anyway – it seemed that in 1964, a dress cost less than a fast food meal would at home. But when she compared the prices of her dress to the others… Mal had grabbed it from her hands just as she was about to put it back on the rack and had taken it straight to the cashier before Maggie could even protest. He'd also made sure she had picked up whatever she might need to do her makeup and hair.

Looking at her now, John was impressed with how easily she'd been able to transform herself, and how effortlessly. She wasn't overly made-up, but he thought she was beautiful as she was. Hell, he'd liked her in her jeans and t-shirt. Perhaps he was past his Bridgette Bardot phase as he could think of nothing more appealing right now than long, dark hair.

"Hey," John said, resting his hand lightly on her elbow and pulling her out of her thoughts. "Do you want to go someplace quieter?" Maggie quirked an eyebrow at him, giving him a small smile. John only laughed. "Maybe later then, luv," he whispered in her ear, sending warm shivers up and down her spine where they then pooled in the pit of her stomach. Wordlessly she let John lead her to a darker corner of the room, both of them slipping away from the masses, the sounds of the party slightly muting as they receded into the shadows.

Watching her sit down, John lit up a cigarette and took a long and deep drag on it. He poured both of them a drink from the bottle he'd grabbed on their way over here. Maggie watched him quietly, seeing the raw emotion flicker through his soft eyes now that they were away from most people. His expression seemed to soften as he handed her a drink and watched as she sipped at it. Both were content in each others company, but neither really knew what to say.

John studied her again. She was beautiful, but not in a conventional way. With her curves, she didn't fit the 60s Twiggy-like mold, nor did she resemble his usual blonde starlet-like preferences. There was also the matter of Maggie's personality. She was obviously not content to just sit back and let a man provide for her while she popped out babies and made dinner. No, she was driven, secure, independent, and did not seem to need anyone or any man to feel complete in her life.

She was the opposite of any woman he had ever been attracted to both in appearance and personality.

There was no doubt in John's mind that he was attracted to her, and the intrigue that came along with her just seemed to be an added bonus. John frowned, his cynical side coming out. It was all too perfect; like everything in his life, he knew that it couldn't last. She wouldn't last. Whether she would change, or just his perception of her, it didn't matter; in the end this version of her would be gone. If he was to have her, she would be gone within a matter days. Besides, he realized that she was strong and independent, and when it came down to it, no girl like that wanted to be with a man like him. By the looks of her, she led one of those perfect lives, and because of it, she would never be able to understand the pain that still lashed deeply inside him.

"Tell me, luv?" he asked, turning to her with a small smile. "Just how proud are your Mum and Dad over their perfect daughter?" Taking a sip of his drink, he laughed bitterly on the inside and briefly couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have a parent still around that actually even cared for what you did, let alone be proud of you. "I bet you are a constant bit of bragging for them, what with being a successful scientist for NASA, and in a rock band at that. That's why people have kids you know, so they can brag about them, because one day they realize that they're old and their lives haven't been worth shite and all they've got to show for themselves is you." Laughing, John downed the rest of his drink and shook his head a little. Peering into the depths of his glass, John felt himself becoming lost in the roaring world that was spinning around him. "Too bad my parents didn't stick around. Apparently they thought I'd never be worth bragging about." Truth be told, neither did John.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide his resentment and jealousy over the childhood he imagined she'd had. Maggie swallowed as she stared at him, feeling a weight bare down on her heart. She didn't get angry and she didn't get upset at his assumptions. She knew why he was behaving the way he was; she understood more then he knew. Leaning back into the sofa, she looked out onto the dance floor. The bodies continued to writhe and mold against each other as each and every one of the partygoers tried to forget the trial and troubles that had hounded them that day.

"My parents are dead," she stated, not looking at him. "They were on a skiing trip together and on the way back they hit some black ice that caused their car to spin out of control and go off the road. The car rolled a few times crushing and killing my mother instantly. My dad died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital," she recited all this as if she had said it hundreds of times before. She felt her heart ache over the loss of two people that she could hardly even remember. "I was only about four so it's not like I ever really knew them, but I still… I still dream about them at times." She laughed derisively at her own stupidity, shaking her head a little.

John was taken aback, the glass that had been half way to his lips freezing in midair as he looked at her, watching concealed pain rise to the surface. Letting his hand fall, he looked down at his lap. "Must have been hard." Maggie only shrugged, not offering anything else up. Like she had said, she was so young she hardly remembered them. What was hard had been how she had always felt different from other people growing up. They all had parents while she had to learned to do things for herself. John swallowed, swirling the alcohol round in circles as he listened to the beat twist around the room. "My mum got hit by a car when I was seventeen," he said slowly. "She abandoned me when I was three, didn't really make contact with me again for a while later, and when she finally started acting like my mother an off-work cop decided to come and steal her from me."

Maggie tilted her head towards his, regarding him carefully. He hadn't once raised his eyes to meet hers though. She knew his past, she knew of his mother and of his father and knew that her own life's tragedies had been similar to his own in many ways. But she couldn't tell him that. How were you supposed to tell someone that you learned all about some of the most private parts of their lives through a book? She also knew from her reading that his relationship with his parents was more complex than he was letting on, or even admitting to himself.

Feeling slightly awkward, she turned back to her own drink, sipping at it again. John lifted his head and looked at her carefully, taken aback by the fact that she hadn't offered any of the usual platitudes that birds tended to give when told of his life. Maybe it was because she knew first hand that it hurt more when people did that. Plus you know they were just saying it half the time because they felt like they ought to.

Swallowing, John ventured forward a little further. He wanted to hear her keep talking, wanted to know that there were others out there like him. "Was it hard for you, growing up without any parents?"

Clearing her throat, Maggie shrugged. "Like I said, I didn't really know them too well. My grandmother was the one who actually raised me. It was just her and me when I was a kid." Wrapping her arms around herself, Maggie blinked rapidly to ward away any tears that the mention of her beloved grandmother might have summoned. "She dropped everything for me. She took me in without even batting an eyelash."

John stared at her, the expression that had clouded his features slowly fading. "She sounds like a great woman," he said after the moments stretched on and silence reigned.

Maggie nodded. "She was," she agreed. Turning to John with a sad smile, she licked her lips. "She died last year. Time finally caught up to her I guess."

John blinked, turning his head, not able to handle the gaze she was giving him. He didn't want to see the pain in her eyes. Taking a drag on his cigarette, John cocked his head to the side. "I was raised by an Auntie," he offered to her. "She was…" John laughed fondly, "She was horrible at times. All proper like, thinking she knew what was best for me."

"And despite that you still love her." Maggie said with a knowing grin.

John laughed, refusing to admit to anything. "Any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope," she said, breathing in deeply and letting it all out with a single gush of air. "I'm an only child."

John nodded. "Looks like you and I have a lot in common, luv."

Maggie watched as he stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, grinding it harshly into the arm of his chair. "You have sisters, though." Almost the minute the words left her mouth, she cringed.

John looked taken aback for a minute, but then laughed. "How'd you know that?"

Looking down intently at her lap, Maggie bit her lip. "I uh- I read it." She said softly as she felt the crimson blush color her cheeks. "There are quite a few books written about you, you know."

John grinned, leaning forward and sounded more intrigued by the moment. "Is there now?" Maggie nodded. "Tell me, luv. What nasty little details of my life do these books catalogue?"

Maggie sighed, leaning into the cushions with a little shrug. "Oh, you know. It just talks about how you became a musician, how you got your start and everything, and then how when you were in your mid-twenties you decided to throw out your guitar in trade for the Bible and how you decided to dedicate your life to Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior instead."

John snorted in laughter. "Not bloody likely."

"What?" Maggie asked, turning to him with a look full of innocence. "You don't believe me?"

"Not in this lifetime."

With a little grin, Maggie shrugged. "Well, you're in luck then because I don't belong to this lifetime."

John shook his head. "No, come on. What do these books say?" Maggie opened her mouth, prepared to tell yet another fabricated story to try and best him, but quickly stopped. Something in John's expression stopped him as he picked up his glass, the ice clinking against the sides of the crystal. "Am I still married to Cyn?" he asked almost casually, almost as if he was asking if the sky was still blue in the future.

Maggie looked taken aback as she watched him touch the glass to his lips, wincing slightly at the alcohol went down cold and bitter. Leaning his head back against the back of the sofa, John swallowed thickly, straining to keep control of his emotions.

"Oh, come on, if these books know anything then you must know how my marriage is in trouble," he said bitterly. "You must know how it's all going to end for me. If it's going to end. Is it going to end?"

Maggie stayed silent, not sure if he even wanted an answer to all of this. Taking another swig of his drink, John sunk further down into the seat, shaking his head. Maggie watched him, not even daring to move. His hair fell gently in front of his eyes and he didn't even bother to push it away as he stared down into his drink, lost in his own silent misery.

"I just don't know what to do," he quietly admitted. "I did love her. I do love her. I'm just not passionate about her. I'm more passionate about my music then I am about her. Doesn't that seem wrong? Shouldn't I be more passionately in love with the woman I am married to than I am with my music? Shouldn't I look forward to going home to my family at night more then I look forward to another day of writing music and playing with Paul?" John frowned, having grappled with the same questions silently for a long time now. "There was a time when she was my everything. When I'd lie awake at night just thinking of her. But now…" With a bitter laugh, he looked out at the dancing crowd, almost begging them for answers. "I'm not- I'm not sure if I love her anymore because I want to, or because I have to." Grabbing the bottle, John refilled his glass, glaring at it's dark contents before slamming the green bottle back down onto the ground below so hard that Maggie thought for sure it was going to shatter. "I just feel like I'm suffocating," he bit out. "No matter what I do it's never enough, it's never right. My own marriage is slowly strangling me and I'm not man enough to either try and salvage it or just end it all together. Instead I go out and fuck whatever girl comes my way before going home and not even stopping to kiss my wife on the cheek when I walk in the door." Raising his glass in a bitter salute, John smiled at Maggie. "Cheers by the way."

She watched as he drained his glass, reached for the bottle and poured yet another. Taking a sip of hers, Maggie stayed silent, knowing that he wasn't looking for words of comfort right now. He was simply looking for someone he could trust.

"My own son isn't even enough to change things either." His voice was nearly inaudible as his eyes got misty. "God, but he's beautiful," John breathed. "You should see him when he smiles. It's like the whole fucking room lights up. I've never seen anything like it." John shook his head. "But you know what I realized the other day? When Cyn walks into the room, he smiles, when the cats come strolling in from the back yard, he grins, and when my best mate walks through the fucking door, Julian holds out his arms and laughs. But when I enter the room," John bit his lip, gritting his teeth as his voice grew gruff with unshed tears. "When I walk in the room he just looks at me. It's like he doesn't even know what to do. My own son is fucking afraid of me and I don't even know how to change it. God, I don't even know how to hold him without fucking it all up." He laughed bitterly. "I'm no better than me own Dad. Just a worthless piece of shite who was drunk one night and came home only to stick it to his girlfriend."

Setting her own glass aside, Maggie leaned forward, taking John's hand in hers. He looked down, marveling at their entwined fingers, and stared in confusion as her tiny hand wrapped securely around his. With his drink in the other hand, he downed the rest of it, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing.

"There's a lot of things I regret," he said hesitantly. "But when twenty years of my life goes by, I have a feeling that the simple fact that I couldn't even play with my son properly is going to top the charts." He paused, then, "No, wait, fifteen. I've only fifteen years left, haven't I? Christ."

Maggie felt her stomach knot at his words, watching the belief shade his cheeks and the tears swim fitfully through his eyes. The heartless bastard that some made him out to be when it came to his first marriage was a quickly diminishing thought. Squeezing his hand, Maggie looked at him hopefully. "Then change it," she encouraged quietly. "John, I've seen the future and all it contains is your little boy growing up thinking that his father didn't love him." John turned away, his eyes locked towards the outside world. "You can change that though," she said desperately. "Spend time with him. Even if you feel like a complete idiot when you're with him, I can assure you that the simple fact that you're at least trying is a memory that is going to stay with the boy for as long as he lives."

John swallowed. "How is that enough?"

"John, you're his father. Believe me, it's enough."

Sniffing, John looked down at his drink. "And Cyn? Is there a future for us?"

Maggie felt her throat go dry. If she told him the truth, then his marriage with her would break off earlier than it had, if she lied and he heeded her words about Julian, there may have been some hope to their future, but more likely than not, their marriage was going to end the same way it had before.

"I don't want to say anything to break up your marriage, to cause more fighting or pain," she said simply. "But you're going to find a girl. And you're going to fall for her and because of it your marriage is only going to end in pain. You're going to run off with another woman and your marriage is going to end in the public spotlight, setting up both Julian and Cynthia for a lifetime of resentment." Bringing his hand up to his eyes, John rubbed at them fitfully, feeling his head start to swim. "It's your own decision on how you want to end your marriage. But, you said you loved her once, and if that's true, then you know as well as I do that Cynthia deserves better than what you're going to do to her." At John's pained look, Maggie reached over and took his other hand, "Hey," she said squeezing his hands gently. He peered up at her through his fringe, clearly troubled by it all. "Nothing is written in stone, John, not even your death. This isn't a script you have to act out. You can still change things. The future has endless possibilities. We may not have any control over what lot we are given in life, but we do have control over our choices and decisions and how we treat others." John opened his mouth about to respond when loud laughter rained through out the room, the voices and music seeping through the walls. John looked around him, watching as Ringo bounced around on the dance floor, as George poured a girl another drink, and as Paul pulled a bird onto his lap without pretence. Shaking his head, John turned towards Maggie and all at once she knew that the conversation had ended.

"Come 'ead," John muttered with a bit of a lazy smile. "Let's dance."

Pulling her up, the two of them headed towards the dance floor, weaving their bodies in and out of the crowd. John pulled her to him, his hands low on her waist as her scent filled him. Sweat beaded sweetly on his brow, her intoxicating aroma reaching out and wrapping him in its warm and sensual embrace. Maggie looked up at him, feeling her breath quicken and her heart hammer against her chest. His cheeks were flushed with the heat and alcohol, his eyes dark as he pulled her closer, a slow song stringing out through the room as the music changed.

Resting her head against his shoulder, Maggie closed her eyes and swallowed. John's hand splayed against the small of her back, his head bowing down as the scent of her hair swirled around him, nearly causing him to groan. He let his other hand travel up her spine, feeling the shivers race through her body despite the growing heat. His fingers slowly curled into her hair, letting the soft strands slip between his fingertips. Maggie felt herself unconsciously scooting closer, her lips parting slightly as she tried to regain control, a warm flutter taking place in the pit of her stomach.

As the song finished, John pulled away, looking at her for a beat before taking her by the hand. He led her outside towards a small balcony, shutting the glass door firmly behind him and blocking out the sounds of the party. Maggie walked towards the railing, leaned against it and clutched at the cool metal hoping to freeze the heat she was feeling inside.

"I used to do this," he whispered, fingering another cigarette slowly. "I used to climb out my window in the middle of the night and sneak off to the graveyard with Paul. We'd sometimes sit for hours just staring up at the stars, talking about our future." John let out a sigh. "It's all shite now though, isn't it? The future?"

Maggie swallowed, not knowing what to say to that. John started up again before she could even form a thought, turning around and leaning his back against the guard rail. With a sigh, he let in the cool air, feeling it wash into his blood and cool him from the inside out.

"So," he said with a tiny smile. "Tell me more about the future; like who wins the World Cup, so I can place my bets appropriately?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with a smirk, watching as a slow and steady smile reached across those beautiful features.

"I can't, John," she said, laughing lightly. "I've already told you enough as it is."

"Oh, come on," he wheedled softly, a teasing lilt lacing his words. "You know you want to."

Maggie laughed, trying to fix him with a stern look but failing miserably. "No." She grinned. Pushing away from the railing, she tried to make her way back to the party, but the feel of John's hand over hers stopped her in mid step.

"You're being quite cruel, you know." He smiled, swinging their clasped hand back and forth between them. "We have names for birds like you."

Maggie laughed, trying to extricate herself from him and push him away. His hand only clasped hers tighter though, laughing with her as each struggled to gain dominance. With an evil grin, he looped his arm around her waist, pinning her back against the black railing in triumph as he effectively gained the much-desired control.

As they leaned against each other, panting, their hearts beating wildly after the brief struggle, both smiles quickly faded.

John felt a shiver run through him as he stared into her eyes, feeling the erratic beating of her heart against his own chest. He swallowed thickly, aware that his heart was doing the same, but unable to find the strength to pull away.

Hesitantly, John leaned forward, his eyes remaining on hers, ready to pull away at the first sign of protest. But, as his lips gently touched hers, her eyes fell closed, and her head tilted back as she returned the kiss, sighing at the feel of his lips.

He kissed her gently, scarcely able to breath as hope and anxiety built in his chest. Trailing his fingers up her arm, he brushed them against her cheek, feeling her body melt against him at his touch. Swallowing, John pressed forward, more urgent, needing to feel, to touch, and to simply connect with this woman. His hand slid down to her hip, the other tangling itself in her hair as he pulled her even tighter to him. Maggie moaned gently against his lips, pressing herself against him and wrapping her arms around his neck in silent invitation. Their breathing was fast and erratic, echoing through the silent night like thunder, their hearts beating wildly in their own ears as the world tumbled down around them, leaving only them wrapped in each other's arms.

John tried to pull her closer, his hand sliding down to her thigh and pulling it up to loop around his waist. But nothing was close enough. The clothes served as a barrier and as hard as he tried, as much as he pulled and pushed and begged silently to just feel her, he could get no closer.

Breaking away with a gasp, John rested his head against her shoulder, his breath wet against her heated skin. Swallowing thickly, John trailed his tongue over the salty flesh, nibbling gently on her ear. "There's an empty bedroom upstairs," he whispered huskily, his fingers trailing suggestively up and down her side.

And all at once, the fire within her was doused with the weight of his words hitting her like an ocean wave. Closing her eyes, she felt her stomach drop at the knowledge of what she was doing, of what he was suggesting. She was such a fool.

Slowly she untangled herself from John, holding him at arms length, not trusting herself to be so near to him any longer. "You're married," she gently reminded. "And while I know that that won't stop you from doing this, it's going to stop me." Looking into his eyes, she shook her head. "I can't have an affair with a married man, no matter how much I like him, or who he is. It's wrong," she said firmly. She was surprised at how strong her words had sounded, because she knew that in reality her resistance was barely hanging on by a thread. All he needed was to push the issue and any restraint she had would disappear. She knew it, and he knew it.

John looked at her, trying to gain control of his breathing. While he knew that he could push, knew that if he really wanted to, he could have her upstairs in a few minutes flat, he was slowly finding to his very great surprise that he didn't want that. He didn't want to treat her like every other girl he had had in the past. He knew it would be great at the time. Hell, it would have been fucking fantastic! But he also knew she would regret it afterwards, and it would ruin anything they could have ever had.

Swallowing his lust, John nodded. Without saying a word, he took her by the hand, and led her back to the party within.

Paul had watched it all.

He had seen the first of the hesitant kiss and he watched as it turned into groping hands and silent moans. He watched John kiss Maggie out of the corner of his eye as the bird on his own lap squirmed, sucking on his neck and running her hands up his side. His frown only deepened when Maggie pushed John away, and John didn't try anything more.

They locked eyes as both John and Maggie entered the room again, hand in hand. It was only for a moment though. Before John could say anything, Paul had pushed the girl from his lap, and headed towards the bar, leaving the blond reeling in his absence.

Sighing, John leaned down and gave Maggie's hand a little squeeze. "I'm going to go get something to drink," he whispered in her ear. "Why don't you go over and join the boys." Maggie smiled at him, knowing that he needed some space to cool down a bit. Hell, she needed some space for that matter. Being in close proximity with John was dangerous. He was better then she had ever imagined. There was so much more to him, to all of them, than she had ever read in a book or seen in an interview. She had always thought she'd known everything there was to know about all the Beatles, especially John, and now she realized that words could never capture the essence of a living person. They were so alive. There was no other word that she could think of to describe the feeling. Smiling to herself at her discovery, she walked over towards George and Ringo.

Making his way over to the bar, John watched as Paul tossed back a shot, grimacing at the taste.

"Slow down there, son," John laughed. "There's plenty more where that came from." Paul turned towards John, looking out him slightly before snorting in disgust. "Something you want to say, Macca?" John mused.

Paul shrugged, knocking back more drink. "I just never expected you to stoop so low, that's all. I mean, fucking the fans is one thing, but putting it to someone who's obviously not all there… I thought better of you, Lennon."

John watched as Paul smiled to himself, swallowing down the bitter liquid that kept being placed before him. Tightening his jaw, he wrapped his arm around Paul's shoulder and smiled thinly. "I'm going to let that one go, mate. Mainly because you're pissed and also because Brian would shit all over himself if he watched me bruise up that pretty little face of yours." Leaning in a little closer, John grinned. "You ever say anything like that again about her though, there's going to be problems, alright? Maggie's not a nutter, got it?"

Paul frowned, shrugging John off and glaring at the drink in his hand. John shook his head, letting the false smile slip away as he turned back to the party, leaving Paul to stare down into the bottom of his glass for the rest of the party.

The night passed with a roar from the stereo, the latest hits blasting across the room and causing Maggie to smile. If only they knew that these was the kind of songs that were only played on the oldies station from where she came from.

She and John talked a little more, keeping their conversation light and when he went off for another drink Ringo was there to pull her out to the dance floor. Maggie couldn't help but laugh as she danced along side the eldest Beatle, jumping up and down with him and nearly falling to the floor in a fit of giggles every time he showed her the newest dance move that was sure to win over the ladies. She would pretend to swoon, falling into him, and he would laugh and try to extract himself from her, telling her that he just couldn't take advantage of a pissed girl like that. It wasn't right. That and the fact that John would probably clobber him were the only things that were stopping him though, mind you.

In all of her daydreams, in all of her fantasies, Maggie could never recall ever having this much fun. It was the little things that were making it all the more real for her. The way Ringo looked as he danced, the way George sheepishly would stub out his cigarette every time Maggie glared, and the way John had felt as he was pressed up against her. Maggie swallowed. It was one thing to fantasize, but it felt quite different to actually live it.

As the night ended, and the people slowly started to filter out, Maggie grew nervous. She gratefully slipped the coat that Ringo offered to her over her shoulders as her eyes searched the room for John. She didn't know why she looked for him. It wasn't like she could go back to his place, not with his wife there and especially not after everything that had happened. She saw him standing near Paul, the two of them deep in some sort of conversation.

"You're not driving home," John stated as they came nearer.

"Mal's takin' me," aul muttered slightly, swaying on his feet. Rubbing at his eyes fitfully, he glared at John as his friend caught him by the elbow before he fell. John didn't acknowledge it though, but instead gestured towards Maggie. Slowly, Paul's glazed eyes rolled over to her standing in the middle of the foyer and the frown that he usually could conceal while sober slipped into place. "'ere," he murmured, digging through his pockets before finding a lone key and tossing it to her. Maggie caught it in confusion, looking back up at both Paul and John with curious eyes. "I have a flat nearby. You can stay there tonight," he said slurring his words together.

Maggie looked at him with a bit of surprise. "Thank you." She said with a small and grateful smile. Paul only grunted in response before turning to John.

"You have to be back at the studio in five hours, John. You need to go straight home."

John smiled. "Yes, Mum."

"I mean it," Paul warned, stumbling out of the house with Mal by his side. "If you're not there tomorrow on time, I'm going to call your Aunt Mimi and tell her everything."

John narrowed his eyes playing along. "You wouldn't dare."

Paul snorted as he stumbled out the door, feeling a sense of comfort that despite the new threat in their lives, they could still joke. "Just try me, Lennon. Just try me."

Shaking his head as Paul pitched forward, Mal caught him on the way down, John waved goodbye. Turning his attention back at Maggie, his smile softened. She still had a look of shock on her face.

"What's wrong?"

Maggie shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just surprised that you were able to convince him to let me stay at his place in town."

John laughed. "I didn't convince him, luv. He all but demanded that you stayed there. He was quite adamant about it."

Maggie held in her flinch. Obviously Paul was trying to keep the two of them apart. She had assumed that John had convinced Paul to let her crash at his place, not thinking that Paul would be so kind to the girl that was, in Paul's mind, stealing away his friend. But Maggie was quickly learning that there was almost always a motive behind everything with Paul McCartney.

"Come on, luv," Ringo called, nudging at George to stub out his cigarette. "I'll drive you home. I live the closest to the flat." Maggie smiled at him in thanks, giving George a pointed look, and then turning back to John.

"Well, then," she said. "I guess this is goodnight."

John nodded. "I guess it is." Shifting from foot to foot, he shoved his hands in his pocket. "Did you want to maybe come to the studio tomorrow, try and figure out this whole future business in-between takes?"

Maggie grinned broadly. "I'd like that." And before things could go any further, before she could follow through with the urge to stand up on tip toe and kiss him goodnight, she quickly hooked arms with Ringo and walked out the front door.

* * *

**A/N: **

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week. **

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	6. Chapter Five

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of Historical fiction.

**

* * *

Chapter Five**

"So, how was Macca's bachelor pad?" John asked as Maggie got in the car the next morning. Maggie smiled knowingly at him, leaning back into her seat.

"It wasn't really furnished," she commented. "But the bed was nice." John chuckled at that, and looked at her smugly out the corner of his eye. Maggie rolled her eyes, clipping her seatbelt firmly in place. She couldn't help but notice how John didn't even bother with his and knew that he was for a rude awakening sometime in the future if he was ever caught without one. "Guess that's all the place really needs to be nice though, huh?"

"More or less," John grinned. With a shake of her head, Maggie turned towards the window, feeling her body sink into the soft interior of the car. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, she tried her hardest to stifle a yawn, but found that she couldn't muster enough energy to hold it in. Eyes watering, Maggie inhaled sharply, widening her eyes hoping to wake herself up a little more.

"Tired, luv?" John asked casually, finding her slightly haggard appearance amusing. "Did I wear you out last night?"

Maggie let out a very unlady like snort. "You wish."

"Maggie, darling, if I really wanted to, I could have," he tossed at her rather matter-of-factly.

Turning to him fully, Maggie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her in a slightly protective manner. "Oh, really?" John nodded. "So, I suppose you were just being a gentleman last night then?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said solemnly.

"And if I was to throw myself at you this very moment and beg you to take me right here and right now, would you still keep up that gentleman-like quality?"

She watched as the corners of his lips quirked up slightly and he pressed on the gas pedal a little harder. "It depends," he mused.

"On?"

"Well," John said. "Would you still respect me afterwards?"

Maggie burst out into laughter, feeling her smile widen. "No, probably not. But you're also assuming I respect you now," she said with a wink.

With a little sigh bleeding from his lips, John shook his head sadly. "Then it would never have worked out between us."

"That's a shame," Maggie sighed teasingly. "It would have made for a good wake up call."

John returned her sigh. "Well, if it's to wake you up, I may be able to compromise. I mean, sometimes we all have to sacrifice for the greater good and if my virginity is what it takes…"

"Virginity." Maggie snorted again. "Oh, please."

John looked at her, a mock expression of hurt coloring his cheeks. "What kind of man do you take me for, Miss Margaret? Do you honestly believe I am the kind of person who would go out there and offer myself to just anyone? Honestly," he huffed. His words were quickly betrayed though as he looked her up and down, a slight leer entering his eyes. "Besides, I'm not the one that was wearing red last night, luv."

Maggie snapped her head towards him with a slight frown becoming serious, banter forgotten. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing,"he grinned. "Just that I think I have a new favorite color and it's all your fault."

Maggie felt a blush color her cheeks almost immediately and turned away, hoping that he wouldn't see it. Swallowing thickly, Maggie played with the hem of her shirt, feeling the air grow hot and heavy around her. "You can't say things like that, John," she whispered, gazing down at her lap with forced intent. "It's fine when we're joking, but… we can only be friends. You know…"

"So, do we live in little bubbles in the future?" John cut her off; asking the question like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maggie looked up at him, staring at him in curiosity, knowing he was changing the subject but not understanding why this was what he was changing it too. "Uh…" she said a little hesitantly. "No." John nodded thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't think my cats would like that much. I just wanted to be prepared."

"Just keep your eyes on the road," Maggie said with a smile, shaking her head at the absurdity of his words and the fact that coming from him, it seemed so natural. "I don't really feel like dying today."

Cocking his head to the left, John stared at her contemplatively, purposely swerving the car a bit. "Are you suggesting I'm a bad driver?"

"You don't get a reputation for your driving ability because you're good, unless you're a professional racecar driver,. Which you definitely aren't." She joked, "I know girls that are better drivers than you."

John glared. "That's harsh."

Maggie shrugged. "I only speak the truth."

Pulling into the recording studio, John turned off the car and pulled out his keys. Maggie reached for the door, ready to head inside, mentally preparing herself for some barbed comments from Paul. John caught her by the arm though, stopping her for a moment.

Turning back to him, Maggie looked at him curiously. With his head ducked down slightly, looking up through the fringe of his hair, John swallowed. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

Taking a deep breath, John shrugged. "For last night. For the advice that you gave me about Julian. When I went home I looked in on him and…" He stopped, feeling his throat constrict a little. "Just thank you. I know I can't change overnight, but I… I don't want to be like my father. I need to be better than him. For both me and Jules." Letting go of her arm, he leaned back in his seat again, staring out straight ahead of him. Maggie looked at him softly, studying his profile and watching as he tried to keep control of the emotions flickering through his eyes. He wanted to try; Maggie knew he was telling the truth about that. She knew that he loved the boy and knew he wanted to be a father to him, but for some reason or other, it had just never worked.

"It's just…" he said, clearing his throat gruffly. "I don't know how." He looked down helplessly at his lap, his eyes searching everywhere he could, trying to rest on a safe spot and finally just settling for the dash. "I don't even know what's stopping me. Jules is happy when I just sit and look at the pictures he's drawn during the day. I look at his scribbling and then hang it somewhere in the house and the boy is happy for hours. But it doesn't seem to matter because it's not good enough in my mind so why the hell should I even try?" Shaking his head, he swallowed. "I don't know what he likes to do for fun, I don't know what his favorite food is… God, Maggie. I don't think I even know what his first words were." A bitter smile crossed his lips at that as he hit the dashboard. "You know who would know though?"

Maggie had a feeling she already knew the answer to that question.

"It's not even his kid and yet Paul knows more about him than I do," John said bitterly.

Scooting closer to him, Maggie took his hand in hers. "John, you need to stop this," she said firmly. John looked at her with a slight frown. "You need to stop comparing your relationship with Julian with Paul's relationship with him because if you keep doing that, then Julian is going to grow up feeling as if Paul was more of his father than you were."

"So, what am I supposed to do?" He said, hitting his hand harshly against the dashboard. "I'd say I wouldn't let Paul even see him anymore but Jules loves him so much and I…. I can't help but think that'd only make things worse."

Maggie sighed. "Don't forbid Paul from seeing your son. Don't even worry about their relationship. John, you need to stop worrying about what everyone else does with him and start your own relationship with your son. You said he likes to draw, well then, encourage that. Draw with him. Tell him how good he is at it. Read to him, teach him how to play guitar…"

John turned to her. "Does he… does he play guitar when he grows up?"

Maggie smiled. "He even manages to put out a few records."

The sense of pride that washed over John at that moment was palpable. A smile broke through his grim exterior, lighting up his face in an instant. Maggie squeezed his hand a little, giving him a soft look. "You see? He follows in your footsteps no matter what."

Leaning back against the chair, John closed his eyes and sighed. "I love him," he whispered.

"I know," Maggie said. "You just need to make sure he knows that too."

Looking out the window, John watched the cars drive by slowly, people peering back at them. There was a group of girls congregating at the corner of the street. In a matter of moments, they would be outside of the car, banging on the windows, and screaming in mass hysteria.

Turning back to Maggie, he nodded to her, conveying to her that he was going to try. "Come on," he said quickly as he saw the girls begin to move towards them. "We need to get inside." Looking towards where John's eyes were being held, Maggie saw the girls. Without a second thought, she pushed open the car door and headed for the studio's door, John only a few steps behind.

Walking down the studio halls, John and Maggie remained silent while John sorted through a few sheets of mail, rolling his eyes a little at one of the fan letters that the receptionist obviously thought was one of the better ones. The rest of the band was already there when they arrived; George explained to Maggie that John was always the last to show up.

Maggie smiled at him enthusiastically, "I'm just happy to be alive! I'm just surprised he's able to make it here in one piece with his driving skills."

George smiled. "We're trying to get him to hire a driver."

"Yeah," Ringo agreed, going over and giving Maggie a little pat on the shoulder. "Hey, Paul. Do you think you two could write a driver next?" Paul only waved Ringo away, staring down at the current song he was working on instead. When Maggie looked at Ringo confused, he only smiled. "That's what those two do," he stated. "When they want something, they write a song to pay for it."

"They wrote another car a few weeks back." George said.

John came up to the three of them, his eyes remaining on Paul's stiff form instead. "I might have to write a new bass player if this one doesn't stop pouting," he said. Paul turned his head towards them at that, staring at John blankly before getting up and coming over to the four of them.

"Hullo, John," he muttered, ignoring the last comment before turning to Maggie. "I trust you slept well last night?"

Maggie nodded and tried to give him a friendly smile. "Very well. Thanks for letting me stay there. It was really very generous of you."

Paul flashed her a grin that Maggie knew had to be false. It was too bright to be anything but. "Well, we couldn't have you inconveniencing John's family like that. John needs his beauty rest or he's worthless in the morning." The others laughed, but Maggie knew that the word "inconveniencing" was meant as something much more. Paul held eye contact with her for a moment longer before turning to the rest of the band. "Come on lads, let's write John that driver."

Placing his hand on her shoulder, John leaned down to whisper in Maggie's ear. "Why don't you go up into the recording booth, luv. Later we'll go get a bite to eat."

Maggie smiled at him brightly, perfectly content to sit and watch the four of them for hours.

"So," Ringo said as he poured some tea for all of them. "Are you friends with us in the future? Or is this just kind of a fluke for you?"

Maggie laughed. "I can safely say that before yesterday, I had never met you guys in my life. Not that many have. You all become hermits and live in caves in Greece."

Ringo looked at her half-seriously, but before he could say anything, John teased, "Ah! This must be where Ritchie becomes intimately familiar with the octopus Miss Margaret mentioned, eh?" Then he proceeded to mime getting caught by an octopus and dragged into the sea.

Maggie just shook her head and chuckled at John's antics.

George ignored John though, and turned to Maggie, quite serious, and said. "You seem to fit in easily with us, though, and that really isn't that common, especially not these days. I would imagine that we would cling to an old friend like you. We can't have changed that much since now."

Ringo chimed in, "In the future, we'll be sure to call you up so we can get together and reminisce. Or we'll invite you to our concerts! Of course, we'll all be old men, hobblin' about on stage with our canes and our instruments. Can you imagine it? Sixty-year-old rock stars! How awful would that be? On second thought, Maggie luv, never mind."

Maggie looked down into her tea. If only they knew.

The four boys that sat before her now would soon be the same ones that ended up fighting each other out in court. They would be the ones turning against each other, the ones that would slag each other off in public, and the ones that caused more pain than necessary. In a few short years, this happy sanctuary that they had created would all come tumbling down around them and all of it would be captured through a series of pictures and television interviews. And yet somehow through it all, their friends, the Rolling Stones would still be selling out arenas as sixty-year-old rock stars.

"So, how are you going to get back?" Ringo said lightly as he set her teacup down in front of him. Paul perked up from his position in the corner of the room, turning to the conversation at hand. John also turned, his expression much different than Paul's. "That is, assuming you're going back."

Maggie saw John's expression out of the corner of her eye, watching as he turned his attention to the depths of his tea, obviously trying to keep his silence. They hadn't really discussed yet what they were going to do about her. She couldn't stay here, that much she knew. Her life was back in the year 2006; she didn't belong in 1964, that was obvious. Just the general attitude towards women would be enough to ensure that. And NASA definitely wouldn't have a job for her here. A woman scientist? Just barely possible, but not likely.

"I'm going back." Maggie said, trying to lay it out gently enough. "I'm just not really sure how. All I know is that I… I don't belong here." Taking a sip of her tea, Maggie felt tension crash across the room in waves, most of it coming from John. A warm arm soon descended around her shoulder though, and as she looked up into Ringo's blue eyes, she was met with a soft smile.

"You could belong here if you really wanted to, you know."

She knew that the offer was heartfelt but she also knew that it wouldn't last. There was no doubt in her mind that they liked her, particularly John, but she had read up enough about them to know that that was simply because she was new and exciting. She had popped out of thin air and managed to captivate their attention for the time being but sooner or later the novelty, this mysterious allure would wear off and they would become bored with her just like they did everyone and everything else. Even if she was guaranteed to remain part of the Beatles' inner circle, to be one of the few that would have the privilege to be in their lives, there was still a problem.

Paul didn't like her. That much was obvious, and as far as being accepted by the entire group, she knew that this single issue was a rather large nail in the coffin. If she stayed, things would only become complicated much sooner than need be. An indefinite stay was out of the question.

Turning to Ringo, but directing her words towards John, Maggie shook her head. "I don't belong here," she repeated. Sighing, John leaned against the back of her chair, clutching the warm mug between his fingers. Maggie continued, "The only problem is that I don't know how to get back home. I mean I'm not even sure how I even got here in the first place."

"What were you doing when it happened?" George asked curiously.

Maggie shrugged. "I was fooling around while taking a tour of this studio and I just looked at a picture of John… and I kind of wished or willed myself here, or something like that. Then suddenly I wasn't looking at a picture any longer. I was being stupid and juvenile but it somehow worked," she finished lamely, knowing how foolish she sounded.

Coming from across the room, Paul sat down across from her, taking up his own cup of tea and looking at her intently over the rim. John remained where he was though set apart from the rest of the group, his eyes downcast to the floor.

"Why don't you do that again," Paul suggested. "I mean, if that's the way you came, it only makes sense that that's also the way you would go back."

Maggie nearly dropped her tea as she stared at Paul with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Mentally she was kicking herself for not thinking of this herself. "I…" she started. "I don't know why I didn't think of that," she mumbled to herself.

Paul smiled tightly. "You were probably just a little disoriented." Getting up from the table, he started pacing the floor. He hummed to himself a little while both George and Ringo sat quietly at the table with Maggie and John stood still in the corner. The fact that she was going home soon weighed heavy on everybody's minds. "When do you think you'll be going then?" Paul asked casually, managing to keep his tone conversational.

Maggie swallowed, looking to John and seeing the resignation written in his eyes. The sooner she left, the easier it was going to be.

"Now," she said quietly and sadly. "I should probably leave now."

Soft good-byes were said in the studio. She and George embraced, each feeling the loss of a friend who understood the other's obsession with guitars. On impulse, Maggie whispered some parting advice into his ear. "Remember, no smoking…and stay away from Ringo's wife." George started at that last bit, but recovered quickly, gave her one last squeeze and then backed away slightly puzzled. Ringo gave her a light kiss on the cheek, as he also felt the loss of a potential friend, and Maggie felt the loss of a future confidant. And Paul… well, Paul had cheerfully clapped her on the shoulder and gently nudged her towards the door, telling her that he was glad to have met her. They both knew it was a lie.

She and John slipped out of the room silently, going back to the spot they had met only twenty-four hours earlier. Both walked in silence, neither able to find the words to say to make any of this less difficult. As they stopped in front of the picture that had brought them together, both stared blankly down at the ground. With their hands thrust in their pockets, they faced each other, not able to bring their eyes up any further. They were too afraid of what they might see written in those eyes. Maggie knew that if she looked at him, she was very likely to lose the tiny amount of will power she had to go back home. _I think I'll miss you most of all_, she thought to herself, recalling Dorothy's goodbyes at the end of the Wizard of Oz. She knew how that must have felt now to leave old friends she'd just met at the end of an improbable, but no less affecting, adventure.

Shaking her head, Maggie winced, knowing that she was going to regret her next actions. Throwing her arms around John's neck, Maggie pulled her body to his, burying her face in his neck and stifling an unbidden sob before it could escape. His arms came up and around her, holding her tightly and tangling one hand firmly in her hair.

"I'll never forget you," Maggie whispered.

John laughed slightly, at a loss of what to say. Clutching her tighter, John squeezed his eyes shut. "I think I could have been happy with you," he murmured. "We could have made this work." Pulling away from her, John smiled, wiping the few tears that escaped her eyes with the pad of his thumb. "And as hard as I may try, I don't think I'll be able to forget you either. You or that lovely vision of you in that red dress last night at the party. Dressed like a little harlot, you were!" He grinned, trying to make light of the situation. Maggie bit her lip, trying to keep the rest of her tears at bay, but failing miserably.

Cupping her cheek with the palm of his hands, John leaned in, kissing her forehead sweetly, feeling his own throat cinch tightly shut. Without another word he turned on his heel and walked away, knowing he wouldn't be able to stay and watch this girl just walk out of his life.

Closing her eyes, Maggie swallowed, taking in a few deep breaths as she tried to compose herself. Slowly, as she gained her bearings, she peeled open her lids, coming face to face with the picture that had brought her here in the first place. Focusing her eyes, she stared at it, thinking of home, of the studio she had left, of the way the city now looked and sounded. Slowly the world began to spin, colors swirling and mixing to create a world of its own. Maggie swayed on her feet gently, feeling as if she were about to fall but not able to tear her eyes away from the photograph before her. As she felt the floor shift beneath her, felt herself begin to tumble into the dark abyss, strong hands grabbed her from behind. Reality then snapped forth, the colors settling into their rightful place and Maggie felt a gasp tear through her stomach as she both hoped and dreaded that when she looked up, she would see John's face.

But it wasn't John. It wasn't even someone that she knew.

"You okay, Miss?"

Maggie stared at the kindly old gentleman who had caught her as she began to tumble forward. He looked at her a little worriedly, obviously noting the dazed expression on her face. Maggie tried not to let her disappointment show as she saw him, giving him a weak but friendly smile as she nodded her head gently. Her cell phone lay on top of her purse on the floor, the walls around her seemed brighter, a fresh coat of paint gleaming across the surface, and the man that was now slowly pulling away was not John.

She was back in her own time.

"I'm fine," she replied to him. "Just got a little dizzy. Thank you for steadying me," she muttered. Without another word she turned from him, scooped up her purse, and walked down the hall straight towards the door.

Stepping outside, Maggie looked up towards the sky, watching as a bird flew overhead. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if things had been different. Maybe if John hadn't been married… Maggie shook her head at that, taking a deep breath and heading down the street. Thinking like that wasn't going to help anything. Maggie knew what John's future held and it wasn't the sort of lifestyle she wanted to get in to. Her leaving was for the best for them all.

Stepping out on the curb, Maggie nodded once, trying her hardest to convince herself of her words but failing miserably.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Did Maggie Sue manage to save all the Beatles? Did the Beatles believe her? Will she be able to return to her normal life after an experience like that? Will John be able to forget her? Find out all this and more in the next *thrilling* installment of Yes It Is!**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	7. Chapter Six

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

Chapter Six**

The city was lit with the kind of magic that you once felt every day as a child. It was that innocent kind of wonder, the kind that put a smile on your face and made you look at your surroundings with new eyes.

Maggie knew she should have felt happy, should have been beyond content with her great modern life, and yet, she remained aloof, a stranger in every sense of the word to her surroundings.

She felt lost in her own time.

She had no family, no real friends she could connect with. It was just her, alone in this bleak little universe. She had thought that maybe with her job she would find a sense of purpose. And while she was excited about it, barely able to even sit still when she thought about what she would be doing with NASA, she couldn't help but feel like there was something still missing. That feeling hadn't haunted her before this so called little "trip" she had just taken. No, before her little tryst in EMI, she had felt complete, had felt whole. Her career was the center of her world and that was enough for her. Who needed love when you were on your way to becoming one of the most successful women scientists of your time? Love was fleeting. It simply gave you that warm tingle in the pit of your stomach for a few months before the magic wore off and left you with this bitter loneliness. Someone would hurt someone else, harsh words would be traded, and suddenly, that feeling that you thought would last forever would deflate in a sea of tears and nothing more. Maggie was taking the smart route in life. She was forgetting love and going with her career. Careers were stable. They were indefinite, and in the end, they provided you with so much more satisfaction than a love life ever could.

But she couldn't help but remember the way she had felt like a part of something important only a few brief hours ago. As she walked down the city streets and back to her hotel, Maggie remembered how she had actually played alongside of some of the world's most famous and talented musicians. It wasn't even the fact that it was the Beatles that was making her smile in delight (okay, maybe it was a little bit) but the fact that she actually felt like she belonged there. Not necessarily playing with them, but there, in that lifetime, in that warm embrace of John's eyes.

It was crazy though.

The whole idea was absolutely insane and Maggie couldn't dwell on something like that. She needed to take this as a blessing and then move on. She had been given the chance that girls only dreamed of in life and she had made the best of it, she had warned the Beatles of what was to come and hopefully they had heeded her words, making their lives better for it in the end.

At the thought of what she might have been able to do, Maggie broke out into a run. People looked at her as she raced past them, anxious to get inside her little room and pull out her laptop. The bellhop just glanced at her a little bewildered as she ran into the lobby, opting to take the stairs to her room instead.

The keycard shook in her hand as she attempted to open the door and after several muddled attempts, Maggie managed to break through. Not even bothering to lock the door behind her, and pulling out her laptop, she brought up wikipedia, typing in George's name as fast as her fingers would allow.

As her eyes scanned the small print, she felt a little sigh of relief hit her. George had given up smoking, going through a long struggle in the mid sixties with it, but had prevailed in the end. He was currently still alive today, living out the remainder of his years with Olivia and Dhani. Maggie smiled, feeling relief flooding her system.

Typing in Paul's name she found the same there. Linda had caught her breast cancer early on in life and had managed to fight it off before it became to late. The two of them had four beautiful children together and it looked like they had just recently adopted a fifth. Maggie felt herself laugh in astonishment as she read about their new little girl, Bea, and how the McCartney's had taken her in after finding out she had been abandoned by her crack whore mother.

Ringo had changed just as much as the others had, it seemed, heeding her words of advice as well. He had cut back on his drinking and drug use and from what she could tell, had never needed to enter rehab. He had even been with Maureen though her illness, helping her beat it and had managed to be a lot kinder during their divorce resulting in the fact that Maureen had never attempted suicide.

Maggie felt her rapidly beating heart slow as she read good news after good news about the boys that she had come to know only a few hours prior. Her anxiety and trepidation over John was almost all gone as she typed in his name a little slower than the rest. As his picture popped up on the screen, she had to grin. She missed him already.

Her smile soon faded though as she ran her eyes over the print that read before her. Despite everything she said, despite all the warnings and all the looks of fear that had crossed his features, nothing had changed. Feeling the tears prick her eyes, Maggie felt a wave of panic crash over her like freezing water on her skin. Pushing away from the bed she had settled on, she ran out of her room, bursting outside into the darkening night.

Rain fell down from the storm clouds as her feet pounded heavily against the sidewalk. She had to go back to him, she had to tell him again what had happened. She couldn't let it all end like this.

Heart racing, hair plastered to her face, Maggie reached the studio, her breath coming in short and ragged rasps. She yanked on the front door, feeling her shoulder give a slight pop of protest as the door stayed firmly shut, locked up for the night. Maggie felt herself panic as she continued to pull uselessly on the heavy entryway, hoping that it would suddenly open, hoping that someone inside would hear her screams. The rain swallowed them whole though, causing them to simply disappear into the blackened night.

Pounding her fists on the door one last time, Maggie felt herself sink to her knees, the sobs wracking her form as she fell into the dirty concrete beneath her. The rain fell down around her, soaking her to the bone and drawing her further into herself. There was nothing Maggie could do though as she sat curled on the ground, feeling the bile rise in her stomach. Why couldn't she have saved him?

She dropped her purse down on the entryway table as she made her way inside her little hotel room. Walking numbly to the bathroom, she grabbed a towel, not even bothering to change out of her wet clothes. What was the point?

The computer screen still remained upwards, shining brightly at her with John's face staring back. She locked eyes with him for a moment, feeling the tears swim just beneath the surface, but knowing she was too weak to let them out.

Sitting down heavily on her bed, Maggie took a deep breath, forcing herself to read just exactly what had happened. It seems that John had done as she said, had gone and told the police what he suspected. But, like usual, they hadn't listened. They didn't believe that Mark David Chapman was anything more than a fan and had refused to arrest him. No, they simply went with the theory that John was just another paranoid rocker, strung out on drugs.

John, not knowing what to do, had gone home anyway, attempting to fight his attacker off as the first gunshots rang out. But it was to no avail. The bulletproof vest Maggie had told him to wear seemed to be nowhere in sight. Maggie read an interview with their personal assistant, one dated years later, where he described how John and Yoko had fought that morning over that very subject, John shouting something to the affect of Maggie told him he needed to wear one. It had taken Yoko a few hours, but she had convinced him that a bulletproof vest wasn't necessary and that he needed to let go of this illusion of a girl named Maggie he had been holding onto all these years. It seemed as if this wasn't the first time Maggie had been mentioned. Everyone had written her off though as a bad LSD flashback and because of it, everything remained the same. John had still died just like he had before, shot down in front of his own home as his little boy remained upstairs, fast asleep.

Closing her laptop for the night, Maggie laid down on her bed, feeling her wet shirt stick to her skin. She just stared out her window, watching the rain fall down the glass silently, her body aching in memory.

More determined then ever, Maggie arrived back at the studio the next morning only slightly put off by the fact that there were no tours today. She didn't care; she needed to get inside. Slowly she snuck in the front door, vowing to herself that she would just play dumb if she were caught.

Entering that familiar corridor, Maggie went straight to the picture that had caused this whole ordeal in the first place, and stood firmly in front of it, praying that this would work. When she had awoken this morning, she wasn't all together convinced that the last couple of days were nothing more than a bad dream. But if there was a way to fix this, she had to at least try. Packing an overnight bag, she had made her way here, feeling more and more like a fool every step of the way, and having to fight the urge to simply turn around and leave as she came face to face with the picture. She had to at least try. If she failed, she could go home and pretend none of this had ever happened.

Staring steadily into the photograph's eyes, she had to force herself to remain focused as the world started to spin again. Part of her wasn't sure this was even happening and desperately wanted to look around the room to see if something was changing. But she remained still, not wanting to take her chances. It had to work; it had to.

When it became too much she closed her eyes, pulling a hand upwards to clutch at her head in order to stop the dizziness that was threatening to overwhelm her. What was she doing? What intelligent, rational, human being, who was in the position she was in life, actually did this? By believing in this childish fantasy she was not only jeopardizing the credibility she had worked so hard to gain in this male-dominated world, but she was also feeding into the lack of sanity she currently possessed. While her analytical mind might have accepted what had happened, that she had somehow managed to time travel back to 1964 only two days ago, it still didn't make up for the fact that she was trying to do it all over again. If someone caught her, the excuse that she didn't believe in any of this wouldn't save her. So she refused to open her eyes. She was afraid that when she did, she would still either be here in 2006, or she would be back in 1964. Either possibility led to two things. She was crazy and had imagined it all, or there was no way to get back to John and he was gone forever. Neither option was one she thought she could face…but she knew she couldn't stand here forever.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, not knowing what to expect. She couldn't help but feel the elation at what she saw.

John stood before her, staring at her in disbelief. He looked different, his hair was slightly longer and his eyes were older, battle weary almost, but Maggie knew it was him all the same.

"Maggie?" he whispered, his voice catching as he pulled her tightly in his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him instinctively, tightly, as she buried her face in his neck and breathed in his scent, the feel of him sending warm shivers down her spine. "I can't believe it's you," he mumbled into her hair. "I used to come down this hallway every time I had a chance, hoping to find you, but lately…it's been so long…." Squeezing her tighter for a moment, as if to confirm that she was, in fact, there with him, he laughed before pulling her away and shaking his head. "You look just as I remember. You haven't changed one bit!" he exclaimed, pushing her away from him so he could look at her.

Maggie frowned a little at that, watching as he drank her in. "Well, I would hope so. I've only been gone for twenty four hours."

Cocking up one eyebrow, John looked at her in surprise. "Twenty four hours? It's April 20th, 1966. It's been a little more than twenty four hours since you've left, Miss Margaret." Maggie gaped at him in shock at the realization that two years had past since she had last seen him, but he could only smile. Slipping his hand down into hers, he dragged her forward. "Come on," he said excitedly. "We're recording a new album. You have to come and see the boys." With a wicked look, John's lips twitched up into a smirk. "Try not to throw up this time."

Before Maggie could even think about protesting, John was pulling her down the endless hall, his hand tight against hers, almost as if he was afraid to let her go again. Pushing open the door, John cried out triumphantly, pulling Maggie in front of him and showing her off. There was a moment of silence around the room as they all seemed to stare at her in wide-eyed disbelief, almost all of them having nearly convinced themselves that she was nothing more than a dream that had entered their lives not so long ago. But all at once, the laughter burst forth, the cries of joy ringing through the room as George and Ringo came forward, grinning broadly at her much like John had.

"You're back!" George said, barely able to contain the excitement he felt at having a fellow guitar geek in his presence once more. Hesitantly, he stuck out his hand in greeting. As Maggie took it though, she pulled him into a hug, not being able to contain her relief at seeing him again. There was something about George that she just found endearing. "You have to see the new guitar I bought," he said with a grin as he pulled away. "The thing's a beauty and…"

"Let the girl breathe, George," Ringo laughed. Pushing him aside, Ringo pulled Maggie into a great big bear hug, lifting her off the floor slightly and smiling as she gave off a happy little laugh. "Give her a few minutes before you two go off on your boring guitar talk," he said as he set her down, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. "Did you just get back?"

Maggie looked around the room, a little overwhelmed before breaking out into a wide grin and shrugging a little. "Yeah!" she laughed. "I guess I did!"

"You haven't changed a bit, luv." Turning her head a little, Maggie saw Paul leaning against the side wall. He looked at her a bit warily, but he didn't seem as aggressive as he had been the last time around. Given the time period, Maggie suspected that drugs had something to do with that.

"I've only been gone for twenty four hours," Maggie explained hesitantly.

Paul frowned. "Twenty four hours? But it's been…?"

"I know," Maggie said, trying to wrap her mind around it as well. "Time must work differently or something. I'm not sure. It's not logical, but then again, none of this is. I just wish I could study this somehow…"

John swung an arm around her shoulder, smiling broadly. "Luv, we have some work to do, but if it's alright with the others, you could stick around and then we could get something to eat afterwards."

A chorus of approval sounded from both Ringo and George, but like always, Paul remained hesitant. John caught his eye, watching the decision being weighed behind those orbs. Letting go of Maggie, John pushed forward, wrapping his arms around Paul and giving him a pleading look.

"Please, Macca, please can I keep her?" Paul tried his hardest not to smile, to simply put a firm expression on instead, but John persisted. Squeezing him tighter, John began to whine in protest, "Please," he crooned. "I'll be good. Please please please please pleas…"

"All right!" Paul laughed, rolling his eyes at John's shout of joy. "Just get off of me." Leaning forward, John smacked Paul's cheek with a sloppy kiss before running to hide behind Ringo, knowing that Paul would hit him if he got the chance.

Maggie smiled at the exchange, noticing how the studio around them seemed to hold a different atmosphere this time. They were all bubbling over with excitement, jumping up and down and hardly able to sit still. Though a lot of that probably had something to do with the drugs they were taking, she reminded herself. Still, as John hugged her again, Maggie couldn't help but let herself beam.

After squirreling Maggie away upstairs in the sound booth, John went and picked up his guitar. Paul was by his side, unconsciously, Maggie noticed, standing close to him. She had a feeling that it wasn't just her presence that seemed to make Paul act this way, it was just a general protectiveness that he seemed to have over his friend. Maggie being there just heightened it. Sighing, she leaned back in her seat a little bit and looked at the two of them. They were just another perfect example of why she shouldn't be here. She couldn't ruin this friendship and she did not want to go down in history as another Yoko Ono.

Or rather, _THE_ Yoko Ono.

Maggie stopped herself at that. What was she thinking? She was getting bit presumptuous here wasn't she? It had been two years for John, and what was to say that he was even still interested; he wasn't exactly known for is long attention span. And even if he was, it didn't change the fact that he was still a married man. Crossing her arms, Maggie set her jaw, resigning herself. She was going to deliver her message, and then leave. Staring at John and Paul again when she heard them giggle, she realized she couldn't ruin that…she wouldn't ruin that.

They giggled again down below as they tried to make their way through "And Your Bird Can Sing," but both John and Paul were in a mood and ended up laughing if they looked in each other's general direction, and soon they just couldn't stop. George and Ringo rolled their eyes a little bit, knowing that this wasn't going to be something that would calm down anytime soon as Paul snorted into the microphone, sending John's fingers crashing down on the wrong chords.

From up in the recording booth, George Martin sighed by Maggie's side, rubbing a hand briefly across his eyes. A small smile played across his lips, but you could tell that this was going to get old fast if the two of them didn't shape up. "They're doing this more and more as of late," he commented. Maggie wondered if he knew they were smoking pot by now. That among other things. "All right, lads," he called down. "Take five."

They broke apart, both John and Paul still giggling and continuing to sing under their breath as Maggie came down the stairs. She headed to George first, figuring she'd let the boys calm down on their own, and went talk with George about his new guitar. She was anxious to see what he had gotten.

Lifting his eyes, George smiled at her in greeting, but there was something different about him this time. He was more hesitant then he had ever been with her before. Maggie frowned slightly, slowing her steps as she approached him, but George waved her forward.

Sitting down, Maggie looked at him, watching as he shot a furtive glance towards his band mates. Finding them all busy, he turned his attention back to his guitar, looking at Maggie out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked, his voice coming out soft and unsure.

Maggie shrugged. "Sure."

"You know all of our songs, right?" She nodded. "Well, we're recording one of my new ones and… what do you think of it, honestly?"

Maggie thought for a moment, trying to remember what album they were on. "Are you talking about Taxman?"

"Yeah," George said, looking at her with amusement. The whole situation was too weird.

"Honestly, I think its one of the best you've ever written. I couldn't get enough of it when I first heard it." Maggie refrained from telling him that she hadn't believed that it was really him when she first heard it because in her mind, his repertoire of songs had been less than desirable before this.

George smiled. "Then… Would you mind listening to one of my other songs? Just to see if it's any good?" He looked at her quickly, not even giving her a chance to respond before trying to correct what he had said. "I'm not trying to take advantage of your knowledge of the future or anything like that. I just… you're a musician too and it'd be kind of nice to get an opinion from someone other then the two headed monster that goes by Lennon/McCartney."

Maggie laughed a little at that last bit. At the same time though, she couldn't help but feel sorry for George. It seemed as if he was always living in John and Paul's shadow and it wouldn't be until after the Beatles broke up that he would be able to get more of an identity of his own. Even then though, he was forever doomed to have his work compared to the rest of them.

"I would love to listen to one of your songs," she said softly, watching as a sort of relief flooded his features.

Strumming his guitar, he paused for a moment, considering what he wanted to play for her. In the background, John and Paul were still deep in conversation, entering into the little world they had created and had restricted access to, while Ringo had wandered out of the room, most likely in search of a cup of tea.

Taking a deep breath, George nodded to himself, almost as if to give himself some courage, before strumming out a few chords, humming the tune under his breath.

Maggie felt her breath catch in the midst of her chest, recognizing the chords to "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." It was by no means the finished product, nowhere near close to it, but the bones were there, the framework. She swallowed thickly, feeling the surrealism of the moment wash over her as the entrancing melody swam before her, wrapping around her in a note of hope and desperation all at once.

It was over too soon for Maggie's liking and soon George was sitting back slightly, looking at her nervously. Maggie just stared at him though, at a loss for words. George looked down. "Is it that bad?"

Clearing her throat, Maggie shook her head quickly. "No," she stated, her voice coming out in a small squeak. "I just…" she smiled, laughing a little to herself. "I know what song it is, or rather will be, and I can safely say that you're on the right track."

"Really?" he smiled a little.

Maggie nodded. "You should show it to them, George."

His features darkened at that though. As his fingers came down, fingering the chords to his future hit absentmindedly, he shook his head. "What would the point be? They'd only shoot it down in the end."

Maggie frowned, feeling the resentment begin to well inside of him. She just wished there was a way to set his fears at ease. If only he knew what his future held. "Keep polishing it up, flesh it out a bit more, and when you're ready, play it for them," she encouraged. "The song is going to be amazing."

From across the room, the sounds of Ringo entering back into the studio, and John and Paul readying to begin playing again were heard. George quickly stopped all strumming, straightening up and hiding away the notes that had already faded into the thin air. Any argument he had been about to make dissipated as well. Despite all this though, Maggie noticed how the look, the one of failure, the one of inadequacy, still hung on his face.

Leaning forward, Maggie caught his eye. "Don't give up," she whispered to him as the others slowly approached. "Your later songs are some of my favorite."

George shot her a surprised look, but didn't say anything more as John and Paul entered the room, calling attention to themselves.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Will Maggie Sue remember to give John her important message? Or will she give into temptation? Has Paul really seemingly buried the hatchet, or is he just looking for the opportune moment to discredit her? Find out all this and more in Chapter 7.**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	8. Chapter Seven

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

Chapter Seven**

Everyone headed over to Paul's house after the Beatles had muddled through the recording session, none of them really getting much done that day. When they had finished up their last attempt at Taxman, Paul offered that they all just stop at his house for dinner, as it was the closest to the studio. They all suspected that it was an offer given simply because he wanted to keep an eye on Maggie and John. It seemed that with her presence thrown back into the mix, the old jealousy came flaring up all over again.

"I have something for you guys." Maggie said as they entered the front foyer of Paul's house. She dug through her bag as they settled into the living room. Her hands wrapped around her iPod and she smiled broadly, bringing it out to show the four of them. There was silence as they looked at it in confusion, each and every one of them glancing at one another, almost as if they were afraid to touch it.

"Alright, I'll take the plunge," Ringo said. "What is it?"

"It's an iPod."

"Is that some form of alien life?" John asked craning his neck over her shoulder to look at it closely. Maggie pressed a few buttons, her fingers running over its surface and John laughed in astonishment. "Look, it's a miniature picture of us!" he exclaimed, squinting at the picture. He rummaged through a pocket and pulled out his glasses to have a better look.

The other three scrambled over, looking down on the screen to see the cover of Hard Days Night looking back up at them. Paul frowned, bringing his nose closer to try and get a better look at it, while George only raised a brow. Ringo, on the other hand, backed away quickly.

Maggie laughed at Ringo's trepidation. "It's not going to take your soul and it's not an alien life form. It plays music. Listen." Clicking the play button, the opening chord to 'A Hard Day's Night' came through the little mini headphones, causing all of them to jump back. "See?"

"It has horrible sound quality," Paul frowned, sitting back on his haunches.

"That's because you don't have those things in," John said, and on cue, took up one of the earpieces and placed it in his ear, grinning slightly.

"It sounds different. It's really clear. Amazing!"

Maggie smiled, forgetting how all of their music had been re-mastered over the years. "It's meant to be portable," she explained as they all marveled over the thing. "You can take it with you wherever you go and listen to any of the songs you want. It's not like the record player where you have to be at home to listen to it. And, you don't have to get up and move the needle every time you want to skip a song. You just press this button and…" She pressed down on the tiny button, changing the song in the blink of an eye. "Viola!"

Paul grinned greedily, "I want one!" Maggie, hoping that it would maybe be a bit of an icebreaker, handed it over to Paul, watching as he tried to figure it out. He smiled in glee as the songs changed.

"If you want to get to another album, just go to the menu."

"Wait," John said, looking at her hopefully. "Do you have _all_ of our albums on here?"

Maggie smiled innocently, "That would be cheating, so no."

"That's a shame, because I say we get ahead of the game and start listening to what our future selves created," Ringo said, getting up from his position on the floor and going straight for the liquor cabinet. Maggie flashed him a stern look almost the second his fingers touched the bottle. Ringo laughed a little, giving her a slightly guilty look. "I've cut back. I swear it. Ask any of them."

"He really has," George said. "You've put the fear in all of us. I've stopped smoking, er, well, mostly, anyway. Ringo's drinking less, and Paul's already made Jane go and get checked out for breast cancer. We're all taking precautions."

Maggie smiled, settling down on one of the sofas. "And it's paid off."

George looked at her. "You're serious?" Maggie nodded a bright smile on her face. Even Paul looked happy that disaster had been averted. Maggie was tempted to tell him that Jane wasn't the one he had saved, but didn't know if she should let on to the future any more than she already had. Besides, he would figure it out in time.

"I'm serious," Maggie smiled. As John fidgeted by her side though, it caused her smile to slip. She looked him uncomfortably.

"You haven't said anything about me," he said quietly. "Come on, Miss Margaret. Tell us the good news there." He tried to keep his voice light, but everyone could hear the fear hidden just beneath the surface.

The room grew silent and cold as the weight of death sat heavy on everyone's shoulders. George and Ringo both settled down in chairs across from John and Maggie, while Paul set down the iPod and sat on the piano bench in the corner of the room. All stared at Maggie expectantly as she focused uncomfortably on her hands.

Swallowing thickly, Maggie took a deep breath. "It's why I had to come back. When I got back to my time, I looked you all up, and I was so happy that you were all fine, but then…John…as soon as I learned…" she shook her head and tried again. "You tried, John. You did what I told you, you went to the police but they didn't believe you." Biting her lip slightly, Maggie cleared her throat, trying her hardest not to let the tears pricking her eyes fall. "You went home and tried to fight him yourself but he still…" She swiped her hand across her cheek, feeling the wetness beneath her fingers.

"What about the bullet proof vest?" George asked her anxiously, knowing that John wasn't going to say it any time soon.

"His wife talked him out of it," Maggie said bitterly.

Gritting her teeth, Maggie felt the lump rise even further in her throat, pushing its way upwards and threatening to burst forth violently. Warm arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tightly held hug as John rested his chin on her shoulder. Her body shook with chills as she let herself go, resting her head against his chest. How strange that he should be comforting her, when he was the one that was going to die. Violently. Horribly. Tragically. Maggie closed her eyes against the thought.

"They can't do that," George muttered. "Why wouldn't they believe him?"

"When do they ever listen to us?" Ringo countered. "We're too counter-culture for them."

"When someone comes and says that they expect that they're in danger, you bloody well would think that they would at least take that seriously," George said, on the verge of yelling.

Maggie felt her stomach roll as she listened to both George and Ringo make plans on how they would stop all this in the future. Despite their adamant declarations now, Maggie couldn't help but feel like it was too no avail. Yoko would just talk John out of it again. Cinching her eyes shut, she leaned harder into John, trying to block out the rest of the world and only take comfort in his warmth.

As George and Ringo devised a plan to hire plainclothes bodyguards to take John's killer down on that fateful day, vowing that they themselves would force John to wear his bulletproof vest, Paul sat in the corner with a bland look on his face. It was as if they were talking about what they would be doing tomorrow instead of the impending death of his best friend. With his arms crossed, he only stared coldly at the entwined figures of Maggie and John.

Calming down slightly, taking comfort in John's arms locked firmly around her, Maggie pulled away, little bits and pieces of information nagging at the back of her head. Suddenly recalling the failed attempt at George's life, she turned to him. "George, I just remembered. Someone is going to try to stab you-" But before she could get into the details Paul snorted in disgust.

Quirking an eyebrow towards his friend, John looked at Paul. "Got something to say, Macca?"

Paul stayed silent for a moment, weighting his options here and wondering if it was better to keep his mouth shut or not. But this had gone on long enough. While he had no doubt in his mind that Maggie was from the future, as crazy as that was, he couldn't help but sit here and wonder why she was doing all this. The well-known fact that fans would do just about anything to get on their good side kept playing throughout his mind. How did they know that she wasn't just telling them this stuff to keep them close? Nothing surprised him anymore when it came to fans. Even time-travel.

"Yeah, I do," Paul finally said, looking at John with an amused expression on his face. "This all seems a little too convenient for my taste. That's all." Looking at Maggie out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge any reaction of guilt or being caught red handed that she might have, Paul continued. "I mean, seriously, John. Don't you find this all just a little ridiculous? Honestly, how much bad luck can happen to one group of people? Stabbings? Assassinations? Cancer? What's next, aliens abducting us?" Paul laughed derisively, shaking his head and knowing he had the room's full attention. Getting up from his seat he looked at them all. "You lads can go ahead and believe the shite that she's spoon feeding you. I'll be in the kitchen." And with that he brushed by both George and Ringo, stalking haughtily out of the room.

The room remained silent as they all looked after Paul, who banged around in his kitchen, probably both for the sake of something to do and to assert that even though he was out of sight, that he was still there.

No one was willing to speak at the moment; George and Ringo were starting to feel more than a little foolish from Paul's chiding them. After all, Paul was right; it was a lot of bad luck. But they still couldn't shake off the "what if's." Turning away with hurt-filled eyes, they looked towards Maggie, willing her to confirm that this was all real once more, to tell them that Paul was wrong.

Dully Maggie remembered that not only was George attacked in his home by a knife-wielding crazy person, but that Mal, their roadie, had come to a bad end as well. Not to mention Brian Epstein, the Beatles' manager. His death was a few short years away. Then there was Maureen. It was all too much. Maybe Paul was right and this band did have a huge cloud of bad luck following it around.

While she had come here with good intentions, it was only now that she realized just how big of a mistake she had made. She had been foolish. She couldn't change the past and she had no right to meddle in it either. Who was she to decide who lived and who died? Besides, she hadn't even paused to consider what the ripple effects of changing the past might be. And yet, it was hard to resist trying to save Mal while she was here, since she seemed to have saved George and Linda. And John? What of John? She hadn't saved John at all. Sadly she realized that maybe she wasn't meant to. Maybe he was supposed to die, and no amount of mucking with the time stream would change that end result.

Swallowing thickly, Maggie extricated herself from John's arms and moved to retrieve her iPod, shoving it into her bag quickly as she ran her fingers through her long hair. George and Ringo were still looking at her expectantly. "Never mind," she told them, "It was a mistake to come here," she said softly as she made her way out of the living room, heading towards the door. John was by her side before she could protest though, grabbing a hold of her wrist and stopping her retreat.

"Don't be daft," he said, trying to keep his voice light while keeping the desperation he felt at the thought of her leaving at bay. He had just gotten her back. He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving him yet again and so soon. "Look, Paul just has his knickers in a twist. Don't listen to him. I don't…" He paused, amending himself quickly. "We don't want you to leave. Stay for just a little while longer."

From the corner of the room, both Ringo and George agreed, voicing a chorus of approval at the thought of her staying. "Besides," George called out, "you still haven't told me the details about me getting stabbed. You can't just leave a bloke wondering if some nutter's going to try to knife him!"

That brought a slow smile to Maggie's face, and looking back and forth between all of them, she swallowed. It was late. Even if she went back to the studio tonight, she doubted she'd be able to get in. Nodding a little, Maggie looked up at John.

"Only for tonight," she said quietly. John grinned, happy that she would be here for just a little while longer. If he could make her stay tonight, then he had more time to work her into staying longer. Letting her bag slip form her shoulder, Maggie suddenly felt the weariness creep over her. "Does Paul still have that flat? Do you think…" Maggie asked quietly, not sure if she should be asking such favors of the man who obviously loathed and mistrusted her.

"Of course," John said, giving her a little squeeze. "Let me get my keys, and we can go." As he left the room, Maggie slumped down onto the sofa and closed her eyes. She didn't care about food anymore; all she wanted right now was sleep and a warm bed.

From across the room, George and Ringo exchanged knowing looks.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hmmmmm....I wonder why George and Ringo have exchanged knowing looks? ;) Find out why in the next installment of the story.**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	9. Chapter Eight and a half

**YES IT IS**

Authors: Jenny Wren, & Lovely Rita

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: _We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of Historical Fiction._

A/N: Hello readers! Long time no see! We have been super busy with real life and traveling. But we are writing, never fear. In the meantime we have something for you! Here is one of the last of our little stories. This one you can go ahead and consider "canon". If you recall, way back in "Yes It Is", the night Maggie Sue and John first got together (at the end of Chapter 8, we sort of "faded to black". We felt like we cheated you out of a steamy chapter in the saga of John and Maggie Sue, so here it is!

* * *

**The First Time**

Previously

_"You know what, I think I'll go and stay at Paul's tonight. You look tired so I, uh… well, I think I'll just go…" He turned to leave, not even looking in her general direction as he made his way past her. But as he reached the living room door, a small hand wrapped around his wrist, her fingers digging into his skin lightly. John looked up, turning to Maggie as she continued to stare down at the carpet, as though she were afraid to look at him._

_She didn't know why she did it; she couldn't even remember reaching out her hand. All she knew was that one minute he was leaving and then the next her fingers were wrapped tightly around his wrist in an action that seemed to speak louder then words. In that moment she knew she had made her decision. Right or wrong, she didn't care. She was leaving in the morning, and by God she wasn't going to waste one more minute with this man. So what if she was just another one of his many one night stands? For one night, she'd be the one. _

_Finally, looking up at him shyly, worried about what he was going to say, but knowing that she had to at least take a chance, Maggie bit her bottom lip. "Stay with me?" _

_The smile that was brought to his face was almost instantaneous. His lips quirked on both sides of his mouth, lighting up his face in a huge smile. Scooting closer to her, their bodies almost touching, John let out a soft laugh. "Why, you wanton little hussy." Maggie felt herself blush as she bent her eyes away. John wasn't about to let her off that easy though. Wrapping an arm around her waist, John pulled her in tightly, his hip coming to rest against hers. "You just want me for my body, don't you?" he whispered in her ear, his arms loosely remaining wrapped around her._

_Maggie snorted. "Oh, please. Your body isn't that great. George is the Greek God out of the four of you."_

"_Oh yeah?" he said, his brow raised as he trailed his fingers up and down her back. Maggie suppressed a shiver, instead trying to muster a challenging look instead. "We'll see about that." Leaning down, John gave her a playful kiss, not meaning for it to go any further then that just yet. But at the first touch of their lips something ignited and before either of them could even think, Maggie's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and John was pulling her closer, tilting her head back only to deepen the kiss further._

_Feeling her body press flush against his, John let out a deep moan, before trying to pry himself away. Maggie clung to him though, pressing herself against him tightly so that every curve of their bodies were fit perfectly together. Tangling his fingers in her hair, John finally managed to break partially away, both of them breathing heavily as they leaned their foreheads against one another. _

"_There's an empty bedroom…" he trailed off, remembering her reaction the last time he had made the suggestion. Opening his eyes, he looked at her cautiously, trying his hardest to gauge her reaction to him._

_Maggie was the first to pull away fully, unwrapping herself from John's body and putting a few inches between them. Looking at him for a moment, she turned slightly, walking deeper into the room. John felt his heart sink as he mentally kicked himself for moving too fast. This wasn't just a gate bird or a random fan he had screwed at the drop of a hat in the past, and while it may have been two years for him, it had only been two days for her. _

_Sighing gently, he opened his eyes, about to tell her that he was going to just head out to Paul's and that he would see her tomorrow. But when he looked at her, he saw her glance over her shoulder at him, a soft smile on her lips._

"_Well, are you coming or not?" she asked coyly._

_John's eyes widened as he watched her fingers trail down her side, lifting the hem of her shirt up and over her head slowing, peeling it from her skin and tossing it quickly back to hit him squarely in the face. John didn't even move. He just let the shirt slide to the floor as he stared at her bewilderedly. A smile broke across his face when she gave him a flirtatious look, raising her eyebrows suggestively before heading down the hall. _

With boyish anticipation, John ran after her.

* * *

Maggie entered the bedroom, her heart racing, her lips swollen, and that shocking realization, that _oh my God I just kissed John Lennon. Again. And now I'm only wearing a bra and a pair of jeans._

She suddenly felt quite naked.

It was one thing to decide to have a one-night stand, and quite another to actually go through with it.

She wasn't worried about getting pregnant or anything – like lots of girls her age who'd grown up in modern America, she was on the pill. And she'd actually had the presence of mind (or foresight) to take it this morning, and to stick the rest of her prescription in her bag.

She wasn't worried about getting an STD either. Aside from the fact that she knew there was a drawer full of condoms next to the bed (trust Paul to take care of that), she also knew that all the Beatles had been fastidious about preventing STDs after their first few miserable weeks in Hamburg years ago.

Her scientific mind, always so logical, had already processed all that, but it had failed to consider one thing: performance anxiety, otherwise known as nerves.

What if she was crap?

John was a Beatle for goodness sakes! And who knew how many women he'd been with – and that wasn't even counting all the skilled prostitutes from his Hamburg days.

What could she possibly offer him that he couldn't get just by whistling out his front door?

And then it was too late. John walked in the room, a large grin splitting his face, and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You know, I think I'm quite fond of the trousers you've worn on both your trips to visit us." John's voice teased while it disarmed, and Maggie Sue felt all her worries wash away at the sound of it. "They leave practically nothing to the imagination."

"Please! They completely cover me up!" Maggie grinned back at John, and the last of her anxiety ebbed away, as simple as that. She had no doubt it would flare back up in the morning, but for now, she was simply going to enjoy herself. Besides, if their two kisses were any indication of what was to come… "Well, I suppose I'll have to keep them on then. Since you seem to like them so much." She batted her lashes at him, and he momentarily froze in the act of shutting the bedroom door. Glancing at her over his shoulder he followed the lines of her jeans from where they hugged her thighs to the tops of the low-slung hips. He gave her a mournful look like a dying man being denied a glass of water.

Leaning his back against the door to press it shut, he sighed before tossing her back her t-shirt. "Well, if you're going to be a cruel tease…"

Maggie quirked a smile, and playfully narrowed her eyes at him before striding over to him, ignoring the fallen shirt. "Don't you dare call me a tease, John Lennon," she began with a finger pointed directly in his face, "I'm not the one who's still fully dressed, depriving me of my big chance to see a naked Beatle ..."

He cut her off by kissing her. Fiercely, hungrily, and then just as suddenly, he pulled away, grinning. "I'm not the tease! And if you're just using me to say you've been with a Beatle..."

Maggie held her breath – had she gone too far teasing him?

"...then that's just fine with me! Whatever it takes!" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed, slightly relieved. They had such a rapport, it was easy to forget she hadn't actually known him for very long. She shoved that fact out of the way – she knew sleeping with someone she barely knew was a bad idea. But in a way, hadn't she known John Lennon her whole life?

He stepped in closer to her, closing what little gap remained between them and Maggie could feel his heart thundering in time with her own. His eyes bored into hers with such intensity, she wanted to look away, but found she couldn't. It was like he was a snake charmer and she was a cobra locked in his gaze.

He leaned in and Maggie tingled with anticipation. She could have almost sworn she could see the sparks flying between them as their lips edged ever closer to each other. The wait was both ecstasy and agony, filling her with so much desire she thought she would surely die if he didn't kiss her that very moment.

John grinned and pulled away. "What were you saying about me being a tease?"

"You're so bad!" She knew John felt the strong pull between them too, but suddenly she felt very vulnerable – after all, she was still the only one partially naked. He still wanted her, didn't he? An embarrassed blush flashed through her, from her hairline right down to the tips of her toes.

She turned away, so he wouldn't see her flushed cheeks, but before she could search the room for a hole to swallow her up, she was suddenly aware of a bare chest pressed up against her back. John had finally had the decency to doff his shirt too, leaving them equally half-dressed and a tease to the other. Strong, lean arms encircled her pulling her tight to him and a voice thick with desire whispered into her ear, "You still win though. I think you'll always win."

Any coherent thoughts Maggie had flew out the window as she felt his hot breath tickle against her ear. She stilled, keeping her breaths shallow and light, afraid that anything she did might cause him to pull away teasing again, but then a trail of butterfly-soft kisses made their way slowly down her neck and onto her shoulder. When he reached there, he paused, and she thought for a moment that he was going to stop… until one callused fingertip slid under the strap of her bra and slipped it gently aside.

Until that moment she had never known that a shoulder could be an erogenous zone, but then, she thought, through a haze of pleasure as John licked and kissed his way back up to her ear, she suspected anywhere this man touched her would be an erogenous zone. She lolled her head to the side in order to more easily accommodate him; it was clear that he was definitely no longer teasing.

One warm, masculine hand slid up the smooth skin of her belly, leaving goose bumps in their wake, and paused to rest just below the swell of her breast. It lingered there a moment, while he focused his lips on the nape of her neck, gently nudging her heavy dark hair aside with the tip of his nose.

Maggie was quivering with pleasure – she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin, she wanted him so badly. Right then. Right at that moment. No more games. No more teasing. She could only hope he wanted her half as badly.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, she turned in the circle of his arms and attacked his lips with her own. Her hands tangled themselves, almost roughly, in his thick auburn hair – one part of mind catalogued that fact; she'd always thought he had dark brown hair. One of the hazards of black and white photography she supposed.

She ran her hands down his smooth shoulders. She'd seen them bare in photos of him swimming, but now his skin was firm and real under her hands. Unable to stop herself, she let her hands explore further down. His bum, his strong legs... She imagined him on stage in his tight Beatle suit, bobbing up at down as he strummed his guitar.

John let out a sigh. She pulled back and looked at him, puzzled. Had she been too forward? But no, he wasn't upset. His eyes were closed, blissfully. She gently kissed his eyelids and then the tip of his nose, that famous nose. John opened his eyes and the look on John's face was indescribable – something she'd never seen in a picture or on film. It was hers, only hers. This John Lennon, the one right now, was hers forever and always – she'd never have to share this bit of him. Filing that perfect memory away she leaned into him. He gazed down at her, and tentatively moved them both in the direction of the bed. "Are you sure?" There was no teasing in his voice. Only hope.

"Of this? Yes." She'd never been more sure of anything before.

"Good." With that he pulled her down so that she landed on top of him on the bed. He smiled up at her, and she down at him. "We've got to make up for lost time, you know."

"Yes," Maggie said, as she kissed him soundly. "The last twenty four hours were the longest of my life."

"Then let's not waste one more single second, luv." And with that he tangled his hands in her hair, and pulled her lips to his. Their lips, indeed their bodies, were a perfect fit for each other, and Maggie felt like she'd found the other half of herself. How had she ever resisted him the first time they'd kissed? Surely if she'd known it would be like this, she might not have been able to restrain herself. In fact, she wasn't sure if she could have left him. Knowing what she did now, how it felt to be with John in every sense of the word, she wasn't sure how she would be able to leave him a second time. One-night stands were fine – but this felt like more. But how could that possibly be? Maggie was afraid she was in big trouble.

* * *

**A/N: W****e'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	10. Chapter Eight

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

Now why did George and Ringo exchange a meaningful look? ;)

**

* * *

Chapter Eight**

Maggie couldn't get over how everything seemed to glow at night as they drove down the street, towards Paul's flat. Driving down the street was an every day occurrence in any city, but as she turned to her right, seeing the profile of a man that should be dead, the thought of normalcy was quickly fleeting. Nothing about her situation was normal, or even plausible for that matter, and yet it was still happening. Maggie had unconsciously resigned herself to just let it happen, knowing that this wasn't something that she would be able to crack open, this wasn't a problem that needed solving, or a puzzle that needed to be put together. At least, not yet.

"I was miserable you know." Blinking a little, Maggie turned her head, raising a brow at him in a sleepy sort of manner. John smiled at her. "When you left," he amended.

Averting her eyes, Maggie opened her mouth to say something, but found that she couldn't think of anything she could say. Meddling with John's death was one thing, but meddling with his life and his marriage, that was another, somehow. Closing her mouth again, Maggie stared out her window, watching the serenity of night settle over the land.

"Well, aren't you going to ask _why_ I was miserable?"

Maggie's throat tightened in both fear and hope over the reason. Shaking her head, her eyes remaining focused outside the car. "Why were you so miserable, John?" she managed.

"Because," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world, "I never thought I'd see you again, at least not until the late nineties at the earliest. Then if I did, I would be an old man in my sixties and there's no way you'd want me then."

"John…" Maggie said warningly, while her heart raced excitedly over hearing his words. She knew where this conversation was heading and though his words thrilled her, reality followed them swiftly. Turning towards him a little, she reached out with her hand, tentatively placing it over the one that rested against his thigh. "You know we can't go down that road again," she said with more determination then she felt. "I've already told you that I'm not going to get involved with a married man. I don't care how you try to justify it, it's still wrong."

A small smile laced his features. "Well, I suppose we're okay then, since in a rare moment of backbone, Cyn decided to leave my sorry arse." Maggie's eyes widened in surprise, as her hand slowly slid away from his, removing temptation.

"I-I'm sorry?" It was really the only thing she could think of to say.

John shrugged though, seeming much less disappointed by this than Maggie did. His matter-of-factness was one thing that didn't surprise Maggie. After all, she knew it was only going to be a matter of time before John decided to leave Cyn for Yoko instead. "She was tired of me moping around constantly, of never showing her any kind of attention at all, of being more of a renter in our relationship than a husband." A little laugh escaped him then. "The thing is though, if I had asked her, she probably would have put up with that forever and not even have batted an eye. But, a certain little bird out there convinced me to turn over a new leaf in life." Leaning his head back against the seat a little, John sighed, his smile disappearing. "I told her everything, confessed all of the little extramarital affairs that I've been having over the years. She really didn't seem too surprised. It wasn't until I told her that I developed feelings for someone else that she started to cry."

Maggie's eyes widened. "You told her that?" Images of Yoko appeared in her head as she quickly tried to calculate if John had even had a chance to meet her yet.

John turned to her though, locking eyes with her and giving her a meaningful look. "Yes."

Feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, Maggie's eyes quickly fell to her hands, not being able to look at him any longer.

"She hung on for a while," John continued. "She thought that maybe she could still make our marriage work. But, in a poetic twist of irony, she met someone else and promptly left me." Maggie's eyes snapped to his and he could only laugh. "Here I was thinking I'd be the one to leave her but it was 'poor little meek Cynthia' that ending up leaving me behind."

With her mouth slightly open and her throat going dry, Maggie frowned. "Did she move back to Liverpool with Julian?"

"No, we didn't want upset him anymore than he already was. Besides, her new husband is in London. I told Cynthia to keep the house if she wanted it, it's more her house then it is mine. She decorated it; she's the one that has been living in it. I would feel like a stranger if I stayed there all my lonesome. They're most likely selling anyway."

"Where are you staying then?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"Paul's flat," John said with a grin. Maggie made a small sound but kept her mouth shut after that. "I make sure to see Jules though," he continued. "I hate the thought that he might grow up and hate me so I talked to Cyn and told her I still wanted to be a part of his life. She seemed so startled by it all that she couldn't really say anything but yes."

Maggie stayed silent as her heart beat against her ribs. The roads were becoming familiar, meaning they were closer to Paul's flat then she originally thought, and she couldn't help but let her imagination run wild over what could happen once the two of them got behind closed doors. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. She could do this. She'd just have to be mature about this. Yes, John wasn't married anymore but that didn't make it ok. They belonged in different worlds and come morning, she still had to go back to hers and he had to stay in his.

When they pulled up to the flat, John turned the ignition off with a slight click, and the two of them simply sat there. Mutual silence reigned in between them, flowing back and forth slightly tinged by anxiety. Maggie swallowed while John played with the steering wheel slightly. She knew he wasn't going to push her, but at the moment that wasn't what she was worried about.

"We should probably go up," she said, finally breaking the silence. "We don't want anyone spotting us."

John nodded, a little shocked that she was the one to suggest this, thinking that he would promptly be sent back to Macca's house the moment they got here.

As she pushed open the car door, he reached in back, grabbing her bag before stepping outside. The night air was cool on their heated cheeks and as John unlocked the front door, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous, not knowing what to expect, or what was even to be expected of him. Taking a deep breath, John nodded to himself. He could do this. It was just one night and maybe breakfast in the morning. There was nothing sexual about that.

Right, nothing at all.

As Maggie came in behind him, he could feel the heat from her body reaching out for him, begging him to come closer, to wrap his arms around her. He had to take a few steps away almost at once. Setting her bag down in the front foyer, John looked at her. She stood hesitantly in the doorway, looking everywhere but at him.

"Um, why don't we go into the living room," he suggested softly, clearing his throat to get her attention. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice and at his words. Living rooms held sofas and other objects that could be laid upon. Maggie shuddered both thrilled and scared at the prospect. She needed to stop thinking that way.

"Okay," she said, her voice coming out as a squeak.

She followed him the few feet into the room to their left, walking into the room and then pausing awkwardly in the middle of it. The carpet had never looked more amazing then it did at that moment in time.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, John looked up at her through the fringe of his hair. A faint blush colored her cheeks, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the thin material of her shirt. He swallowed thickly, his clothes suddenly making him hot and itchy. Closing his eyes, he turned away from her. If he didn't leave now, he wasn't sure what he would do next.

"You know what, I think I'll go and stay at Paul's tonight. You look tired so I, uh… well, I think I'll just go…" He turned to leave, not even looking in her general direction as he made his way past her. But as he reached the living room door, a small hand wrapped around his wrist, her fingers digging into his skin lightly. John looked up, turning to Maggie as she continued to stare down at the carpet, as though she were afraid to look at him.

She didn't know why she did it; she couldn't even remember reaching out her hand. All she knew was that one minute he was leaving and then the next her fingers were wrapped tightly around his wrist in an action that seemed to speak louder then words. In that moment she knew she had made her decision. Right or wrong, she didn't care. She was leaving in the morning, and by God she wasn't going to waste one more minute with this man. So what if she was just another one of his many one night stands? For one night, she'd be the one.

Finally, looking up at him shyly, worried about what he was going to say, but knowing that she had to at least take a chance, Maggie bit her bottom lip. "Stay with me?"

The smile that was brought to his face was almost instantaneous. His lips quirked on both sides of his mouth, lighting up his face in a huge smile. Scooting closer to her, their bodies almost touching, John let out a soft laugh. "Why, you wanton little hussy." Maggie felt herself blush as she bent her eyes away. John wasn't about to let her off that easy though. Wrapping an arm around her waist, John pulled her in tightly, his hip coming to rest against hers. "You just want me for my body, don't you?" he whispered in her ear, his arms loosely remaining wrapped around her.

Maggie snorted. "Oh please. Your body isn't that great. George is the Greek God out of the four of you."

"Oh yeah?" he said, his brow raised as he trailed his fingers up and down her back. Maggie suppressed a shiver, instead trying to muster a challenging look instead. "We'll see about that." Leaning down, John gave her a playful kiss, not meaning for it to go any further then that just yet. But at the first touch of their lips something ignited and before either of them could even think, Maggie's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and John was pulling her closer, tilting her head back only to deepen the kiss further.

Feeling her body press flush against his, John let out a deep moan, before trying to pry himself away. Maggie clung to him though, pressing herself against him tightly so that every curve of their bodies were fit perfectly together. Tangling his fingers in her hair, John finally managed to break partially away, both of them breathing heavily as they leaned their foreheads against one another.

"There's an empty bedroom…" he trailed off, remembering her reaction the last time he had made the suggestion. Opening his eyes, he looked at her cautiously, trying his hardest to gauge her reaction to him.

Maggie was the first to pull away fully, unwrapping herself from John's body and putting a few inches between them. Looking at him for a moment, she turned slightly, walking deeper into the room. John felt his heart sink as he mentally kicked himself for moving too fast. This wasn't just a gate bird or a random fan he had screwed at the drop of a hat in the past, and while it may have been two years for him, it had only been two days for her.

Sighing gently, he opened his eyes, about to tell her that he was going to just head out to Paul's and that he would see her tomorrow. But when he looked at her, he saw her glance over her shoulder at him, a soft smile on her lips.

"Well, are you coming or not?" she asked coyly.

John's eyes widened as he watched her fingers trail down her side, lifting the hem of her shirt up and over her head slowing, peeling it from her skin and tossing it quickly back to hit him squarely in the face. John didn't even move. He just let the shirt slide to the floor as he stared at her bewilderedly. A smile broke across his face when she gave him a flirtatious look, raising her eyebrows suggestively before heading down the hall.

With boyish anticipation, John ran after her.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Now don't you go yelling at us for getting Cyn conveniently out of the way....this is a Mary Sue, remember. :P**

**So, the real question is, what happens the morning after? Find out next in Chapter 9...**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	11. Chapter Nine

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

The morning after...will it turn out good or bad?

**

* * *

Chapter Nine**

The sun streaked in through the window, sliding across her face in a gentle line as the morning sun slowly coaxed her out of her deep slumber. Opening her eyes, Maggie looked around the room, stretching her arms up and over her head and feeling the blanket slide against her body. Yawning, she turned her head to the side, only to find an empty pillow and the covers tugged up gently, almost as if a sleep warmed body had never even been there. Frowning, Maggie thought back on the night before. She could remember it, remember gentle moans and simple caresses, but nothing looked out of place. The room seemed just as it had when they entered it last night and for a brief moment, Maggie feared that it had all been a dream. It was too perfect to be real. Surely she was in her own little room back home and the trip to England and the insane thought of somehow reliving the Beatle days were only a dream conjured for her pleasure late at night.

But as she looked around, she noticed the small touches that she knew she would never have imagined: the deep blue blanket, the oil painting on the wall, and the drawer on the bedside table that was cracked open slightly, containing more then one box of condoms. Maggie had to smile. There was no doubt about it. She was indeed in Paul's flat.

Wrapping herself in the sheet, Maggie slipped out of bed, running her fingers through her hair and tiptoeing out the door and into the hall.

Music wrapped around her almost immediately, slightly muffled. John's voice whispered through the flat, reaching Maggie's ears gently and calling her forth.

Leaning against the wall, Maggie stood still, watching the image before her. John sat on the sofa, his guitar in hand as he sang softly.

"…_the color that my baby wore_

_And what is more, it's true_

_Yes it is_

_Scarlet were the clothes she wore_

_Everybody knows I'm sure_

_I could remember all the things we planned_

_Understand, it's true_

_Yes it is, it's true_

_Yes it is_

_I could be happy with you by my side_

_If I could forget her, but it's my pride_

_Yes it is, yes it is_

_Oh, yes it is, yeah_

_Please don't wear red tonight_

_This is what I said tonight_

_For red is the color that will make me blue_

_In spite of you, it's true_

_Yes it is, it's true_

_Yes it is"_

As the song ended, John frowned a little, strumming a few random notes out on the guitar as he looked up, sensing someone watching him. The image of Maggie greeted him just like it had so many nights in his dreams and John felt a warm tingling sensation run up and down his spine again. Maggie leaned heavily against the wall, where she obviously struggling not to be overcome with emotion and cry.

With a small frown, John set down his guitar, and walked to her, and without a word, led her to the couch. Her body shook beneath his fingers as he brushed a few strands of hair from her face. The fact that she wasn't meeting his eyes only worried him all the more. Maybe last night had been a mistake, maybe he'd pushed her too fast.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, almost fearing the answer.

Swallowing and trying to collect her wits, Maggie breathed in deeply. "That has always been my favorite song of yours… and seeing you, hearing you play and sing it…" She shook her head, licking her lips slightly as she turned her eyes up to him. "It just hit me that you really are John Lennon, and if that's true then this is a dream and I'm going to wake up any minute. And… and I don't think I want to wake up." Her voice was strangled as she looked at him, almost as if she were pleading for him to keep her from waking up from this beautiful dream.

John pulled her into his arms immediately, placing a kiss on the top of her head as he rested his chin there. She shook beneath him. "You're not going to wake up," he whispered. "I pinched you once before, remember? You didn't wake up then, did you?" Maggie took a few deep breaths, pressing closer to him as she wrapped her arms around his chest, trying her hardest to believe him.

Bringing a hand up to curl in her hair, John pulled her away from him slightly. "I wrote that for you, you know," he admitted shyly.

All forms of tears suddenly dissipated as she heard his words. Shocked, Maggie's body suddenly went stiff in his arms as she looked up at him. "What?"

John grinned a little sheepishly. "I wrote it after you left. I couldn't get you out of my head and whenever I thought of you, you were always wearing that red dress." He laughed slightly, almost cursing the night that she had bought that damned thing. It haunted him even while he was awake. "It got so bad I couldn't be with a bird if she was wearing red…" He admitted it so softly that Maggie couldn't help but feel the tears begin to rise again. As childish as it was, she had always identified with that song and had wished that someone out there could have written something so beautiful about her one day. "I guess I was just trying to work out my feelings of frustration about my relationship with Cynthia, and the fact that you were no longer here with me, and that, when you left, I felt like a piece of me left with you."

Reaching out with her hand, she cupped his cheek gently, looking him in the eyes. "That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said or done for me." Leaning forward, she kissed him deeply, trying to pour all her feelings into that kiss.

John pressed his lips hard against hers, tangling his fingers deeper into her mass of curls as he nudged her mouth open with his tongue, simply breathing her in. The feel of her heartbeat quickening against his bare chest caused him to try to pull her in even tighter, an almost desperate need for her overtaking him. He needed her. He needed to touch her, to feel her touch, to be surrounded by her scent and her warmth. He needed to have her by his side, to be near him. But most of all, he needed her to need him just as much.

Tilting her head back to deepen the kiss, he slid a hand down to her bum and pulled her tighter to him, locking their bodies together perfectly. Maggie moaned at the contact, wrapping her arms around him tightly and shifting her body closer to his. She melted into his heat, feeling her own pool in the pit of her stomach as they both gasped for air. But neither could bring themselves to stop, to pull away and enter a world without touch once more.

His fingers kneaded into her smooth skin, sending shivers up and down her spine as he trailed fingers across her body, causing her to sigh and moan all at once. She deepened the kiss again, tilting her head back further to allow him even more access, feeling his need press against hers. Maggie gasped slightly as he gripped her tighter and the overwhelming need to feel him fully struck her hard.

Finally, when he knew he was nearly beyond coherent thought with his brain, John broke off the kiss. Breathing heavily and swallowing as he gulped in air, he looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. "Had I known all it would take is a bit of a song to get into your knickers, I'd have played you one that first night," he laughed shakily, dipping her back onto the sofa and moving to hover on top of her.

Giggling, finding that her breath was still not coming to her as quickly as she wanted it to; Maggie wound her fingers in his hair, bringing his lips down for a brief kiss. "Just imagine what I'd do if you wrote me more songs," she said suggestively.

Propping himself up on his elbows, John looked at her with a wicked little smile. "Well, if that's the case, I've written you a whole string of songs!"

Maggie laughed, looking at him with slight disbelief. "Oh, really?" He nodded in earnest, becoming a cheeky little boy that wanted praise within the blink of an eye. "And what may these songs be if I may ask?"

"'Help!'," he said with a shrug, leaning down with a grin to plant a firm kiss on her forehead. "'You've Got to Hide Your Love Away'." Kissing her on the eye, he grinned as he felt her laugh beneath him. "'It's Only Love', "Tell Me What You See'." Moving his lips to her other eye, he planted a gentle kiss on her eyelid, his hands roaming up and down her sides all the while. "'Girl'." With his lips traveling down the side of her cheek, teasing her gently, he felt Maggie squirm beneath him, trying to pull him closer, to hold him tighter. "'In My Life'," he whispered.

"Sure," Maggie said, not knowing if she could really believe anything he was saying. Laughing slightly as he nibbled at her neck, she sighed happily. "All those great songs were inspired by me and our 'Great and Tragic Love, Which Could Never Be'." She giggled slightly at the very ridiculous thought of it.

But the gentle kisses and caresses stopped almost the moment the words were out of her mouth. Propping himself up slightly, John looked at her in all seriousness. "They were." Maggie's breath caught in her throat, the slight hitch making John smile pointedly at her. "So you see, my wanton little hussy, now you've got to show me what you'd do if I wrote you more than one song!"

Jumping off the sofa, John picked her up and swung her up and over his shoulder. Maggie shrieked in surprise, laughing loudly as he marched her off to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

Later that morning as they lay in each other's arms, Maggie's head resting gently on top of John's shoulder, John sighed contentedly as the morning sunlight streamed through the window and warmed their sweat soaked skin. He ran his callused fingers gently up and down her arms, feeling her body melt into his as she began to drift off to sleep. He breathed in her sweet scent. He wanted this. He wanted this everyday and he never wanted to let her go.

Closing his eyes and resting his head on top of hers, John snuggled down into the sheets. "Stay with me," he asked. And without even thinking, answering instinctively, Maggie said yes.

* * *

**A/N: **

**So, what can you expect next time? Well, obviously Paul will have something to say about it all, won't he? ;) And how do you suppose a modern, career minded women, who happens to be scientist for NASA, will adjust to living in the swinging 60s?**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	12. Chapter Ten

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

Chapter Ten**

Night had fallen, casting the world around her into dark. Maggie sat by the window in the living room, a cup of tea cradled in her hand. It was her only company for the moment as she stared off into space, deep in thought. The last few days had been filled with that wonderful feeling that everyone has at the beginning of relationships - the feeling of your heart fluttering, of your face muscles aching because you've been smiling so much, and that rare feeling that everything in the world is right, that nothing can ever sadden you again. But as Maggie sat by the window, she feared that feeling may have been wearing off for her. She loved John, there wasn't any question about that, but problems were beginning to form in her mind.

It was on impulse and instinct that she had decided to stay with John. There was no rational thought about it. One minute she had been telling herself that all of this was just a dream, and the next she had decided to take the plunge down the rabbit hole and stay in a world that she knew she should have never been a part of. She had said yes without another thought and now she was paying for it. Her analytical, scientific mind was now at the forefront and all the little nagging worries inherent to staying were beginning to bother her.

For example, the space time continuum. Had she created a paradox by staying? Or was she always supposed to stay and if she left, would that create a paradox? There was also the problem of a new identity. She needed to create one because now she had no birth certificate, no parents, no references or even proof that she was ever born. What about Yoko? Would John leave her for Yoko? Would John even remain faithful for that matter? She wanted to believe he would, but his history proved that wouldn't be the case; he had even cheated on Yoko. Was she prepared for that?

Then there was the issue of drugs. The marijuana she didn't mind so much even if it wasn't her thing, other then the fact it was illegal, but she knew she wouldn't be ok with the harder stuff. On top of that, she never wanted to be famous, but now she would be everywhere, synonymous with John and the Beatles if she stayed, just as all Beatle Girlfriends and Wives were. Goodbye privacy! Which was an issue related to her lack of identity. Would some enterprising journalist try to dig into her non-existent past?

Her career was another issue as well. If she stayed she could pretty much kiss that goodbye. She was giving up everything, absolutely everything, by staying.

Leaning back in her chair, Maggie sighed before closing her eyes. Were these things she could give up and was the outcome going to be worth the trouble in the end? Sometimes she wondered why life didn't come with a little cheat book where it told you what you should do in situations like this. Not that many people had ever been in situation such as she had. Actually, she felt it was pretty safe to assume that NO ONE had ever been in her situation before.

As she became lost in thought, her mind wandering from issue to issue, John entered the room. She hadn't even heard him in the midst of all her troubles until he cleared his throat at the doorway, raising an inquiring brow towards her. Turning, Maggie felt the worries that she held melt away as he flashed her a grin. Smiling back, she gathered herself together and quickly placed herself inside his waiting arms. No words were exchanged as he tipped her back for a kiss, his fingers coming to rest in her dark brown curls.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked, holding her slightly away from his body in order to look into her eyes.

Doubt would quickly cloud those beautiful features if Maggie let on to her worries and thoughts, the same ones that had been plaguing her for the past hour. She knew that she couldn't tell him. Not yet at least. "You know," she said, giving him her sweetest smile. "The last time I was here, I was older than you. But now, you've aged a few years and I've only aged a few days, making you the old one in this relationship."

John laughed a little, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips. "Don't worry, you'll always be my old lady," he grinned, smacking her on the bum and causing her to giggle. "Now come on, grab your handbag. We're going to Macca's for a little get together."

Maggie ducked her head, watching out of the corner of her eye as John moved away, going to grab both of their coats. "Uh- perhaps Paul would rather I stayed home for the evening," she mentioned hesitantly.

"Nonsense," John smiled, helping her into her coat, and guiding her out the door. Maggie didn't have the heart to protest any further.

Maggie tried her hardest to steer clear of Paul for most of the evening but seeing as how this was his house, the task was a bit difficult to achieve at times. That, added to the fact that John wanted to be by his best friend for most of the evening, made this feat an almost impossible task. So instead, Maggie tried to stay silent, blend into the walls and keep herself from irritating Paul too much. But it seemed like any time that John laid his arm over Maggie's shoulder, or Maggie placed her hand on John's, Paul's eyes would hone in and see it right away. As the evening went on, his mood got darker and darker. So it was with confusion when Maggie saw Paul steer Jane over to her while John was off getting drink refills, and addressed Maggie directly.

"Maggie, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Jane." They had been at this party for a while now and Paul was just now begrudgingly getting around to this little introduction between girls. Maggie had a feeling he only did so because Jane wanted to know who the girl with John actually was.

"Hi," Maggie smiled, keenly aware of the fact that Paul's eyes were watching her every move. "It's nice to meet you."

Jane smiled brightly, obviously not sharing her boyfriend's feeling for the woman in front of her. "It's nice to finally meet you, Maggie. You must be some girl to deal with John here," she said teasingly. "I'm glad you decided to stay here instead of returning to America. You're all John has been talking about lately."

"Yes," Paul chimed in with a forced smile. "We're all so happy you decided to stay, Maggie."

Maggie caught Paul's look but let it pass. She knew that if John were around, Paul would have never even dared to say something like that. He had waited purposefully for John to go get the two of them drinks before coming over here.

Jane shot Paul a look, watching as he sipped on his drink as if nothing had happened and let the awkward silence fall into place. Turning back to Maggie, Jane placed another smile on her lips, noting her boyfriend's behavior but saving that conversation for later this evening. "I must admit," she said with a smile, stepping a little closer to Maggie. "I'm a little jealous of the fact that you got to go in there and jam with the boys. They've never invited me to."

Maggie looked at Jane, a little taken aback. "Do you play an instrument?"

Jane nodded. "Guitar," she stated shyly. "And I sing a little too."

Growing a little more excited over the prospect of having another girl to talk to, Maggie ignored the look that Paul shot towards Jane, probably for getting too chummy with "the enemy." "You have to play for us," Maggie said, looking around the room for an available instrument. Considering where they were, she knew there had to be one close by.

"Oh, no. I couldn't," Jane said, her eyes going a little wide.

"Couldn't what?" Returning with the drinks, John looked at Jane curiously.

"Jane was just telling me about how she plays guitar and I was telling her that she should play a little for us."

John smiled; the excitement that was coming from Maggie was contagious. Turning to Jane, he chuckled at her panicked look. "Go ahead, luv. Play us a tune. No one will mind."

Jane bit her lip. "I…" but John was already off in search of a guitar. Before Jane could protest any further, one was shoved in her hands and she was guided gently to a chair so she could sit and play. Eyes stared expectantly at her, and Jane knew she had no other choice really than to play. Taking a deep breath, she strummed the guitar for a few seconds, testing it out, before launching into Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind."

A furious blush covered her cheeks as applause broke out across the room when the finishing chords finally died down.

"That girl needs to play more often," John commented to Maggie while she nodded in agreement. "But it's always acting with that one." He shook his head in mock disapproval. Maggie was still a bit stunned. She had never thought that Jane could be that good and she wondered why Paul hadn't tried to get her to play more. Hell, she didn't even know Jane knew how to play!

Before these thoughts could go any further, Patti approached her. "Maggie," she started, a small glint in her eye. "How are you adjusting to being a Beatle Girlfriend?"

"So far it's wonderful," Maggie grinned. "But I'm pretty sure that's only because none of the gatebirds have caught on yet."

There were groans throughout the group at the mention of the gatebirds. At times, Paul seemed to be the only one that had any love for these girls. No one was quite sure how he did it.

"Well, luv," Ringo said, tipping his coca-cola to her and giving her a wink. "Perhaps if you and John would ever leave Paul's flat, you could get to know them." Maggie felt a faint blush color her cheeks but John just slung an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her tightly.

Smiling at the little display of affection, Patti leaned in a little closer to the couple. "You have to tell us," Patti started, glancing at John before turning back to Maggie. "Are the rumors true?"

"What rumors?"

"Is John's ability in bed really all it's cracked up to be?"

John snorted into his drink while both Jane and Maureen jumped at the chance to "compare" notes on their men. "Yeah," Maureen said. "I've heard that his may be more superior then the rest of this lot here…"

"Excuse me?" Ringo interjected. Maureen waved him off though with a teasing smile.

"Tell us, Maggie," Maureen continued, "Do you have the best of this four headed monster?"

Jane shook her head. "I'm not sure if she should share that. I think John's ego is already inflated enough. I mean, if the rumors are true and all…" she sighed dramatically.

"Wait," George frowned. "What rumors? Are there seriously rumors going on out there about how we are in bed?"

Patti smiled, patting him on the hand before turning back to Maggie expectantly. Grinning, Maggie shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "I may have heard a few things in passing, though I cannot reveal my sources."

Intrigued by the situation, John raised a brow. "What do you hear?"

"Let's see," tapping her finger lightly against her chin, Maggie pretended to think critically of the subject at hand. "Paul's the best lover..." John snorted loudly, stumbling backwards as Paul reached out and hit him.

"You," Maggie said, pointing her finger at John. "You take the longest," as John opened his mouth, about to say something, Maggie held up her hand to stop him. "George tries the hardest." Another snicker sounded from John. "And Ringo makes the ladies laugh."

The women all looked at each other in turn, trading knowing looks, before bursting out into laughter, leaving the men confused and shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"That's all rubbish, that is," John protested. "Disgusting that they would compare notes like that. "

"Well then, maybe you shouldn't have all been fucking the same groupies in the old days, should you?," Maggie retorted unabashedly before moving to Jane's side. "Could you show me how to play that last song?" She went off with the rest of the girls, their laughter sounding through the room, leaving the men in a state of shock.

Moving over to the bar to get another drink, John stared at Maggie, watching as she played the guitar with Jane. Adoration colored his eyes as he watched her fingers move to form chords, strumming beautiful music from the instrument. She laughed softly and leaned in further to the guitar, smiling at something that Jane said. John couldn't help but smile with her, even though she was far away. He was feeling something that he hadn't felt in years and never had he been more thankful that Maggie had come back than he was in this moment.

Seeing John's expression, Paul frowned and moved over to his side. He too watched the girls sitting in the corner of the room, laughing and smiling, unaware of the watchful eyes that were trained upon them. Paul couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as Maggie once more became friends with someone that was in his life first. He gritted his teeth as he watched his girlfriend and this woman hardly known by any of them get along so well. Why was he the only one who was wary of this outsider?

Pouring himself another drink, Paul swallowed, turning his eyes back to John. "You're different around her," he stated, going straight to the point instead of dancing around the subject. He knew from experience that if he wasn't straightforward with John, his friend wouldn't give him the time of day.

"What is that supposed to mean?" John sighed, preparing himself for what would most likely be another one of Paul's sulky rants.

"You're changing, John," Paul hissed. "Ever since she's come into your life you've become this person that I don't even recognize anymore. You're changing on account of a bird that popped into your life, who is a fucking fan. She's no better then a gatebird! The fact that she doesn't even belong here doesn't seem to matter to you either. No, instead you're feeding into her delusions that the two of you can become this happy couple and that she has a place in your life."

"Why does any of this matter to you?" John asked, still staring at Maggie, with a smile on his face.

"I want my friend back. It's the old John Lennon that I want to record with, that I want to go and listen to records with. Not the new version that you're starting to become."

Noting the seriousness in his voice, John turned to him and frowned. Paul bit his lip nervously, glaring into the depths of his drink. That softened John up a bit, "Hey, Paul." Paul looked up at him, his eyes guarded. "It's only me, alright?" John said the familiar words with a smile. The words that always made everything better between them no matter what.

Staring into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity; finally Paul blinked and looked down. "No, John. It's not."

* * *

**A/N: **

**Oh No! Paul still doesn't approve of Maggie! What will Maggie Sue do??! How will John Handle it??? His Best friend or his Girlfriend???!!! But most importantly.... does Martha like Maggie?**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	13. Chapter Eleven

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

Here's what you've all been waiting for, the big "showdown" between Paul and Maggie. My money's on Martha... ;)

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven**

The weeks were spent inside the studio, listening to history being made while the nights were spent in the arms of a man that she shouldn't even know, but now could not imagine living without. John and Maggie had become inseparable, rarely seen without one another, a notion that Paul had become increasingly aware of. Mornings started mostly with Paul seeing the two of them in the corner, whispering and giggling, hands touching and fingers gliding across palms. Maggie would sometimes leave to go shopping with one of the girls, but all too often would hide away up in the recording booth instead, and when Paul would look over to John in order to trade a familiar smile, John would be looking upwards, making faces at the girl above. The only reprieve Paul seemed to get from the two of them was when he went home at night. The next morning though he would be regaled of tales of how Maggie and John spent their evenings playing guitar together, sometimes going into all hours of the night when George and Ringo would drop by to join them. Paul tried to drop by occasionally, just so he didn't seem like he was playing the role of the jealous lover (like Jane was starting to teasingly accuse him of doing), but he never stayed very long. He found that his temper was shortened by miles almost the moment he entered the house.

The fact that John and Maggie clicked, understanding each other on some sort of subconscious level that up until now, only Paul had been privileged to experience, and for so many years, was starting to wear thin. It got under Paul's skin more than he would ever admit, and the more that this little fact presented itself, the more bitter jealousy began to come out and play. Snarky comments were made daily and they were almost always directed towards Maggie. It all boiled down to one thing too. Paul simply did not like John spending time with this woman, and he was becoming increasingly annoyed with the ease that both George and Ringo accepted her, and now even Jane!

John knew Paul was sulky, but figured it would pass soon enough. He loved Maggie, so therefore Paul must certainly love her too in time. George and Ringo figured it was between John and Paul, so stayed out it, and Maggie knew Paul wasn't going to do anything about it other then make things worse. She also knew he wouldn't just "get over it."

Perhaps this was the reason that Maggie was here now, standing outside of a home where she knew she wasn't welcome, biting her nails nervously. The decision to stay here was one that she wasn't budging on, but she knew at the same time that if this was going to work, then the air needed to be cleared with Paul. The relationship that John and he had with each other was too important and Maggie did not want to be the reason why it ended so early on in their lives.

"Is there a reason why you're standing outside of my home?"

Whirling around, Maggie came face to face with Paul. She had yet to even ring the buzzer to summon him and he was already there, catching her off guard. She had had this whole thing planned. Awaking early this morning, she had left a note for John and headed over to Paul's house, hoping that he was home and that he was not home all at the same time. She'd wanted a few more minutes to prepare herself before knocking on his front door to discover which was true, but here he was right in front of her now, Martha's leash in his hands, and Maggie knew that she couldn't avoid this any longer.

The gatebirds were out in full force this morning since it was a Saturday, ignoring Maggie and tossing questions and smiles at Paul. He looked at them graciously and Maggie couldn't help but wonder why he was so willing to accept and smile at girls he didn't even know while he held nothing but disdain towards her.

_Maybe because they're not trying to take his best friend away._ She thought to herself bitterly. It was the truth. There was no way around it. Paul had decided almost from the moment John took interest in her that Maggie obviously wanted to steal his best friend and keep him for herself. And to be honest, a small part of her did want to keep John all to herself, and not share him with anyone.

Shaking her head clear of her thoughts, she screwed up her courage and faced Paul. "We need to talk." She said over the noise of the chattering girls. Paul tossed her a glance that clearly said _go away._ Maggie kept her eyes focused though and he had no choice but to nod. As he said his good-byes to the girls before him, he motioned Maggie forward, not chastising any one of them while they threw their less than flattering comments towards Maggie.

"What do you want?" he bit out. As the gate closed behind him, Paul released Martha, watching as she frolicked off to find some sort of trouble to get into. That was the ideal life. No one to answer to, no one to hate you, just a simplistic reality where chasing birds was your daily form of activity.

"I told you," Maggie said, sighing as he refused to look at her. "We need to talk."

Raising an eyebrow, Paul laughed to himself slightly. "Do we now?"

"Yes." Maggie crossed her arms in front of her, holding firm. This needed to end before things between her and John went any further.

Turning to her, Paul smiled at her condescendingly, as if she were child he was simply amusing for the time being. "And what is it that we need to talk about?

"Your jealousy."

"My what?" He laughed, amused and a bit surprised by her declaration. "If you think I'm jealous of John, you're daft!"

"No, Paul," Maggie said with a sigh, her shoulders slumping a bit in frustration. "I think you are jealous of me. Of me and John specifically. Jealous of the fact that John is spending all his time with me, and not you, and bringing me to the studio all the time, and your special little "Beatle Boys" club is being crashed by a girl."

Taking a step back, Paul shook his head. "You're a nutter." His eyes widened slightly as he fidgeted nervously, beginning to walk towards his house, anxious to get inside. "John can fuck whomever he wants whenever he wants for all I care."

Not backing down, Maggie followed him, watching as he unlocked his front door and stepped into the foyer. Before he had a chance to shut her out, Maggie stepped inside, inches away from him. "Yeah, just so long as you are the one person he wants to make music with, and just so long as you are the most important person in his life," she accused, refusing to blink or break eye contact with him. She would not back down.

They stood like that for a moment, faces inches apart, each refusing to give into the other. Paul's eyes clouded over. Maggie saw him slowly recede into himself. Not wanting to appear like he was giving this woman any more ground, he held eye contact with her though, trying to prove to her the inaccuracy of her claims, before he turned and walked towards his kitchen. "You can see yourself out," he called casually over his shoulder.

With a roll of her eyes, Maggie watched as he disappeared around the corner. Somewhere in the distance she heard a door open and then shut very quietly, as if the impending rage wasn't about to burst. "Men!" she muttered to herself, frustrated. Gathering her wits about her, Maggie took a deep and calming breath and went in search of Paul once more. She was not going to let him drive her away so easily. She loved John, John loved Paul, therefore she loved Paul, or was at least going to try to. It was that simple. Anything that was important to John was important to her.

Maggie opened the back door and entered the back garden, the picture before her one of serenity. The air was cool and wisps of clouds glided across the sky, and the atmosphere was one of peace and acceptance. It was the kind of day that most thrived on. It made you stand up and take notice of it, made you look at it in all its beauty. It was only suitable that this was also going to be the backdrop to their upcoming conversation.

Paul sat on the steps, watching absentmindedly as Martha ran around. A bird sat up in a tree, taunting the dog incessantly, engaging it in a game that Martha would never win. Swallowing, Maggie looked at Paul, feeling a pang in her chest as she looked at his dejected form. His shoulders were hunched, elbows resting on his knees, and his head in his hands. Sitting down next to him, Maggie mimicked his position. This was going to be even harder then she had imagined.

Silence passed between them, the sounds coming from the wind, the trees, the taunting bird and Martha, but not a single word was uttered from their lips. Maggie wasn't going to be the first to talk either. Everything she said seemed to irritate him so maybe, just maybe if she stayed silent, he wouldn't be able to come up with a reason to argue with her.

Cloth moved against skin as Paul sat up a little straighter, staring straight ahead into the distance, not even really seeing anything. He cleared his throat, gathering his words. "When I said you could see yourself out, this isn't what I meant."

"I know." Maggie said simply. "But we're not done talking."

Paul's eyes flicked towards her, shining with disbelief over her cheekiness. That was all though. No words were traded back, just a slight acknowledgment and then the staring at the sky resumed.

"The thing is Paul," Maggie finally began after another moment of silence. "You don't need to be jealous. I'm not going to take John away from you. I'm not out to break up the Beatles. In fact, those two things would be the worst things that could possibly happen, in my opinion." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye but his expression had yet to change. Somehow though, she knew he was listening, and the words were coming to her easier now that she had started. "The other thing is, you need to be patient with John." He shifted uncomfortably and Maggie almost regretted her words. Telling him how to deal with John probably wasn't something he appreciated much. According to Paul, he was the master of knowing John's thoughts and emotions and having Maggie tell him how to handle John wasn't something that was going to go over well. The thing was, Maggie needed to tell him what he couldn't see and hope against hope that it might sink in a little. "Right now we are just starting out, and as with anything new and wonderful, you want it all the time, so it's hard for us to be apart. One day, I think you'll understand that for yourself," she said, remembering how Paul and Linda had been criticized for being so inseparable. Opening his mouth, Paul began to interrupt but something stopped him. Licking his lips, Paul firmly closed his mouth and pressed his elbows further into his knees.

"You are still John's best friend, and writing partner, not me." Maggie ducked her head, trying to look into his eyes. "It would be tragic for the two of you to stop writing together… trust me on that one," she said with a slight smile.

Paul swallowed thickly, his fingers tangling into his hair. Martha had given up on the bird in the tree and was now rooting around in the dirt, sniffing things unbeknownst to the rest of them. Maggie and Paul sat in silence for a moment, watching Martha introspectively. The air was becoming cooler and Maggie could feel shivers threatening to run up and down her arms.

Turning her body towards Paul, Maggie felt herself sigh for what seemed like the hundredth time today. "Just because John and I play and sing together, does not mean he's going to stop playing and singing with you," she said quietly. "I'm not going to join the Beatles. I'm not going to force my way into your band. And above everything else, I am _not_ going to let John try to get me to play with you guys on any of your albums." For the first time, Paul turned to her, really looked at her, a wave of panic sweeping across he face. Maggie laughed. "He hasn't asked me to, Paul. That's purely conjecture on my part."

A slight smile came to his face for a moment, the corners of his mouth wanting to twitch upwards. It set Maggie at ease as she looked at it, giving her the courage to move on.

"My point is this," Maggie said. "The Beatles are four guys. FOUR. Not five. There is no fifth Beatle. Yes, I will be coming by the studio to watch, and to say hello, but I want a career of my own. Something to do with science, or maybe even a band of my own, and that won't leave time for me to be following John around everywhere. I don't even want to do that. That's a bit too co-dependent for me. And now I'm rambling…" Biting her lip, she trailed off, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks.

Paul looked at her again, his eyes traveling across her face as he studied her, trying his hardest to find the truth. "So, you're not trying to keep John all to yourself," he finally said. It was clear he didn't want to validate the idea that he might be harboring feelings of jealousy over John, even if they both knew it was true.

"No."

His eyes narrowed. "And you're not trying to join the band?"

"No," Maggie laughed. "Jamming with you guys occasionally is fun, and amazing, but I'm no Beatle."

Her words served as no comfort though. They were there and Paul had a feeling they were true, but he was still uncertain. Maggie sighed, softening completely to him at the brief moment of vulnerability flashing across his eyes.

Resting her hand on his shoulder, Maggie looked at him carefully. "Paul, we both love him. That much is obvious. And I'm willing to share him if you are."

With his eyebrows shooting upwards, disappearing into his hairline, Paul looked at her aghast. "I do not love him! I'm not a poof!"

Maggie burst out into giggles. Oh, if only he knew what would be said about John and Paul's relationship in the future. "I never said you were…though there is at least one group of people on the internet devoted to proving that you and John were involved…physically and romantically." Paul paled at that, wanting to protest but not finding the words to do so. Maggie filed that away for future blackmail and teasing. "But, no, I don't think for a minute that you're gay, not that there would be anything wrong with it if you were. I just know that you have deep feelings for John, and I don't want you thinking I'm out to take him away from you."

Her hand slipped from his shoulder but Maggie kept eye contact with him, trying to show him that she was telling the truth. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Paul chewed on it nervously, a decision being weighed back and forth in his mind. "You mean that?"

"Yes."

Turning towards Martha, Paul seemed to consider this. Finally, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion, he cleared his throat and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "So, what's this you were saying about some group of people who thinks John and I are shagging? And what's the internet?"

Maggie's smile brightened her face as relieved laughter burst from her lips. Paul ducked his head, smiling as well, running his hand through his hair as he looked at her shyly. The two of them were okay. An understanding had been reached and while a sense of awkwardness still remained around the edges, it was better than it had been before.

Maggie laughed and proceeded to tell him all about the web, and most importantly, about all the theories his fans, present and future, would spend hours discussing.

* * *

**A/N: **

**To answer your question, Maggie and Martha are never really able to see eye to eye. Martha is able to sense that Maggie is, in fact, a cat person. DOH! **

**So, what will happen next time? Will it all be sunshine and ponies now that Maggie and Paul have made nice? Tune in to the next chapter to find out all this and more...**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	14. Chapter Twelve

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

So now that Maggie and Paul have made nice, will the story become boring?

**

* * *

Chapter Twelve**

Sticking the spare key into the lock, Maggie opened the front door of the flat to find the smell of pancakes greeting her. Entering the kitchen, Maggie looked at John a little curiously; he was making pancakes for the two of them… for lunch.

"Went to go see Paul, did you?"

Setting her purse down, Maggie looked at him with a slight smile. "Yes." Hoisting herself up on the counter next to him, she watched as he mixed the batter. "Why are you wearing a pink apron?"

John shrugged. "The boys gave it to me for a joke and I've decided to embrace it so that the joke is on them. Pink is my color, don't you think?" He batted his eyes at her. Maggie shook her head and laughed at him. The things that were left out of the biographies were always so much more interesting. "So, how did it go?" Peering at her questioningly, John narrowed his eyes protectively. "Did Paul behave himself, or do I need to go defend your honor?"

Swinging her legs a little, Maggie shrugged. "Not at first." Seeing the look that crossed John's face, Maggie spoke quickly to stave off the impending anger. "But once I explained a few things to him, he was fine. We're okay now… I think."

"You think?" John asked and Maggie shrugged. You could never be completely sure in Paul's case she figured. Firing up the stovetop and pouring some batter into a pan, John shifted his weight from foot to foot. "How did you manage that?" he asked, feeling a lot more curious than he actually sounded, and oddly enough, he feeling a twinge of jealousy over the fact that Paul and Maggie had come to an understanding… without him. "What did you say? I thought Macca was going to sulk for at least another month or two. He's the sulky sort, you know."

"That's between Paul and I." Maggie smiled.

That made John pause a bit, as his jealousy flared again. "Oh, I see," he said while flipping the pancake. "You and Paulie are keeping secrets from me now. I suppose I'd better check to make sure all your babies aren't born with Macca's eyelashes then." He tried to sound like he was teasing, but even to his own ears it sounded forced.

Reaching out, Maggie took John's hand and pulled him towards her. John gave a quick glance towards the stovetop before moving between her legs, watching as she looked at him seriously. Any hope he had of her not catching the hint of jealousy in his voice was dashed. But then Maggie smiled beautifully at him, laying all his fears to rest.

"You don't have to worry about any of my babies having Paul's eyelashes, or his exquisite lips, or his gorgeous hazel eyes, or his dark silky soft hair…" John rolled his eyes, readying himself to make a sarcastic comment about "the cute one". Maggie wouldn't let him though. "I'm in love with someone else..."

John perked up at the word 'love.' "Oh yeah? And who might that be?"

Maggie looked at him conspiratorially before leaning down to whisper into his ear. "It's a secret… can I trust you to keep it?"

John smiled. "No."

With a little sigh, Maggie shrugged. "Well then, in that case it's Ringo!" She laughed.

Pulling back, John watched the slow and steady grin spreading across her face. With a glint in his eye, John pressed himself into her. "That's quite enough of that, you wanton hussy!"

Grabbing her by the waist, John pulled her towards him, kissing her deeply. Maggie moaned into his lips, threading her fingers through his hair. All thoughts of pancakes were quickly forgotten.

Lying in bed, the sheets draped across his waist, John watched Maggie with a bit of confusion. Maggie was standing in front of the wardrobe, wearing one of his shirts, sorting through her own meager pile of clothing with growing irritation. Muttering to herself, she jerked a few blouses out of the drawers, contemplated them for a moment, before tossing them aside. It was during one violent fit, when she threw a blue shirt to the floor, glaring at it as it landed next to her feet, that John had to hide his face, fearing he was about to burst out laughing at her little display at any moment.

"That's it, it's official!" she finally shouted. "I have nothing decent to wear tonight!"

John perked up at this thought and sat up a little further in bed. "Fantastic!"

"Fantastic?" Maggie turned her body towards him slightly, a pair of jeans that she was getting ready to toss at the wall hanging limply from her hands.

"Yes," John nodded eagerly. "I prefer when you are dressed indecently. And if you have nothing indecent to wear, then you can go in just your knickers." That thought alone caused his eyes to dilate. "On second thought," he grinned. "That's an even better idea!"

With a shake of her head, Maggie threw her jeans at him. "You're not helping, John."

"I am helping," he pouted.

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"I'm supervising and providing moral support for you in your time of trouble." He nodded to assert his opinion before looking at her lecherously, his eyes roaming to her bum. "Also, I'm enjoying the view."

Maggie rolled her eyes, and then glared at his advances. Turning back to the wardrobe, another growl of frustration left her lips. "I still can't believe you've just now told me that we are going to a party at Donovan's house AND that the Rolling Stones will be there!"

Flopping back on the bed, John sighed. "I don't understand what you are so worried about. It's just Donovan, Mick and Keith."

"John, to you it's just Donovan, Mick, and Keith, but to me it's famous musicians I've been listening to my entire life," she cried exasperatedly. John was still looking at her, confused. Shaking her head, Maggie forced herself to relax, hoping that maybe joking around with him would calm her nerves. "Besides, everyone knows the Rolling Stones are better then The Beatles."

Quirking an eyebrow her way, John folded his hands behind his head. "Are they now?"

"Yes," she nodded with a sly grin. "And Mick, wow, he's sooooooo sexy. Do you know if he's single? Not that that would matter to him, I'm sure…"

Tossing the sheets to the side, John rose from the bed, looking at her pointedly. "Well, I do know that YOU'RE not single, so I think that pretty much takes care of that." Tossing her a stern look, John walked to the closet and pulled it open. He had to stand a little straighter in order to get a box down from the top shelf, but immediately slouched again once his task was done.

"Not that that would matter to him, I'm sure!" she called to him teasingly. Her words soon died on her tongue though as she saw the box in his hands and curiosity got the better of her. "What have you got there?"

"I don't know why I didn't think of this before," he muttered to himself. Setting the box on the bed, he pulled the lid off, pushed aside paper and listened as it crackled through the room. His fingers soon touched fine silk and before Maggie could get any closer, he was grasping the scarlet material in his hands and pulling it out of the box.

"You kept it!" she cried, surprise and joy taking hold of her. The same red dress she had worn all those years… weeks… whatever… ago hung in his hand.

"Of course I kept it," he said, a little offended at the thought of getting rid of it. "It's all I had of you. Besides, you never did pay me back for it. Thief."

Shaking her head slowly, Maggie walked up to him, feeling herself growing breathless. With her arms wrapped around his waist, her head resting against his chest, she found herself content to just breathe him in. "I never knew that you were so sweet and sentimental."

John fidgeted nervously but wrapped his arms around her anyway. "Yeah well, don't tell Macca… I've got a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Mind if I borrow it for tonight?" she asked, looking down at the dress that still remained in his hands.

"I don't know, what do I get in return?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Maggie laughed, slapping at his arm as a lecherous grin spread across his face. This man was insatiable. "We just had pancakes!"

"But I want pudding now!" Leaning down he began to nibble at her ear. Running his fingers up her back, he pulled her closer. Maggie sighed contentedly; standing on tippy toes and pressing her body firmly to his, she felt the shivers start to run up and down her spine and the heat pool in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm not a pudding, John," she protested half-heartedly in between kisses.

"Are you sure?" He frowned. "Because I seem to remember you being quite tasty."

"Mmmmmmmm," Maggie said, licking the juncture between his neck and shoulder. "You're the tasty one…."

No more words were exchanged as John picked her up by the waist and carried her back to the bed.

* * *

**A/N: **

**We figured we owed you at least one happy chapter before we piled on the drama again...ooooh do I detect a bit of forshadowing? Tune in next time to see how Maggie Sue fares at Donovan's party!**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	15. Chapter Thirteen

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

So, what does happen at Donovan's party? Does Maggie Sue run off with Mick? Does Maggie Sue give in and try drugs? Do John and Paul finally give into their feelings and run off together? Find out all this and more...

**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen**

By the time they arrived, the party was in full swing. Girls draped themselves over boys as music blared in the background and the sweet scent of smoke swirled around them in a white haze. Maggie's fingers tightened on John's arm a little as they entered the house and he turned to her and gave her an encouraging smile. She was excited about getting to meet Donovan and the Stones, but she was nervous, especially now that she was inside the house. She knew that she was working herself up over nothing - after all, she was so cool and calm with the Beatles. Why was she going all fangirl thinking about meeting Donovan? She couldn't wait to talk to him about his _Sunshine Superman_ album… it was so perfect from start to finish, especially the songs "Guinevere" and "Legend of a Girl Child Linda." But then reality began to set in as Maggie realized she didn't know if Donovan had even released that album yet. And she had no idea what the Stones had released yet either. She was fairly certain that Satisfaction was out, but still, the simple fact was, when it came to bands like the Stones, Donovan, Led Zeppelin, and Pink Floyd, (were they even a band yet?) she simply didn't know anything about them other then their music!

She couldn't even claim to be a fan for fear of saying something wrong like "Oh Mick, I absolutely love _Wild Horses_!" and have him think she was bonkers because she'd just been fawning over a song that he hadn't even conceived of yet, much less written. This was going to be more difficult then she thought. Knowing everything about the Beatles was not the same as knowing everything about the sixties music scene.

"Did you want a drink?" John asked, interrupting her reverie and leaning down to kiss her. Maggie smiled up at him and nodded, trying to force her concerns from her mind. This was a party, and it was Swinging London, and by golly, she was going to have fun! Before she knew it, there was a drink in her hand, one in John's and they were being steered over to the very same people she'd been in anticipation of meeting.

Standing before her was Mick Jagger. He oozed sex appeal, his scary modern day appearance forty years off.

"Mick, this is my old lady, Miss Margaret. Maggie, luv, this is Mick of _The Rolling Stones_, a shite band that will never amount to anything," John said by way of introducing the two of them.

"Oh, Mick! I absolutely love Wild Horses, though I think _The Sundays_ cover version is a bit better…" Maggie said, blurting out the very thing she had decided she would definitely not say, and immediately felt like an idiot.

"What's that, luv?" Mick asked as he leaned in. "It's hard to hear you over the music."

"Uh, nothing," Maggie replied, relieved that her blunder had gone unheard. "Are you guys working on an album now?"

"Yes, nearly done, though we're still arguing over a title, and what's to be our first single," Mick answered politely, though she noticed that he was looking somewhat below her eye-line. Was she that bad-looking that he couldn't even look her in the face?

Maggie tilted her head a bit, and bent her neck down, trying to catch Mick's eye. "Which song do you want for the first single?" Maggie inquired, still hoping for a clue about which Stones album they were just finishing.

"Paint it Black – I think it's one of our best. Your friend George talked us into adding sitar to it and I'm really digging it," Mick's gaze lazily moved up, until he was finally looking her in the eyes, which somehow seemed more bold and intimate than when he had apparently been starting at her chest. He licked his lips, those famous lips.

"I'd love to hear it," Maggie said, happy to hear a reference to her favorite Stones song.

"Sure, luv, maybe I'll play it for you later, if you can ditch the Beatle. They're a shite band really, just a flash in the pan," Mick leaned in and whispered, giving her a little wink and a friendly leer.

Maggie was equally amused and put-off. Could any of them have guessed that the Stones would still be making music in the 21st century? Or that the Beatles would only last a few more years before breaking up, with resentment on all sides?

Maggie hardly knew what to think about Mick himself – she knew that back in the day, Mick was supposed to be quite sexy, and now she could see why. In person, he exuded a raw sexuality that was almost overpowering, even when he was answering mundane questions about their next album. For a second she missed George, and how instantly comfortable she was with him, and how they got each other's interest in music and guitars. Yes, the Beatles were more her style. They may not have been the innocents they had been painted to be, but compared to the Mick they were comfortable and fun. Maggie wondered what her reaction to a group like Zeppelin would be – the stories about them made Mick (and the Beatles) look like schoolboys.

Mick sauntered off after a heavily made-up blonde caught his eye and beckoned to him. Maggie blushed and buried her head in John's shoulder. "Oh that was awful! Could have been more awkward and idiotic?" she moaned. John just laughed and patted her back, "There, there Miss Margaret; I thought you were charming. Besides, Mick wasn't even listening to you; he was staring at your tits the whole time." This caused Maggie to only blush deeper to realize that John (and probably everyone else) had been aware of her discomfort. John laughed at her again. "Come on, luv, let's go mingle a bit more and see who else we can get to make you blush, or better yet, vomit like you did with me when we first met, but mind my shoes please, they're my favorite," John teased as he led her over to another group chatting people.

Even after her rough start with Mick, things seemed to be OK…for a while. But eventually the reality of the perfect little world that she had been living in these past few weeks was changing before her eyes as she watched joints being lit and lines being snorted off of the available finger. Mick and the blonde were over the corner, practically having sex right in front of everyone. Maggie looked away. John's arm was swung sloppily around her shoulder as they sat on a sofa. A joint and various other substances were passed around, all of which Maggie denied with a little wave of her hand. A few raised eyebrows were shot her way, but the comments didn't go further. Maggie fidgeted nervously beneath the weight of John's arm, glancing away as once more she turned down what was being offered. Her movement brought John's attention out of the conversion he was having. He looked down at her, frowning a little as he noticed her discomfort. The white blunt was between his fingers, headed towards his mouth for a second puff, but at the look Maggie had on her face, he passed it off, deciding that maybe tonight he should keep things at a minimum.

As the conversation turned from music to things that only seemed profound if your blood was coursing with chemicals, Maggie stood, deciding that maybe she should get herself another drink. She'd been nursing her first one all evening. She rarely got drunk, and the few times it had happened, she'd made sure she was with close friends she trusted. She'd seen too many "After School Specials" about drinks spiked with roofies, and girls taken advantage of at parties. She doubted roofies were actually an issue in the 60s. Still, she wasn't comfortable here. In fact, she felt totally out of her element.

Wandering through the crowded room, she waved the smoke from her eyes and tried to ignore the music, music that she had once loved but now found to be a soundtrack for a night that seemed to be headed to places she didn't want to go. In 2006, she was considered normal and average for not doing drugs. After all, she didn't run around with any rock stars. But here, she was a stick in the mud. Uncool. Not worthy of the legendary John Lennon. As she wove in between dancers, she bumped into a couple that had their hands snaked all over each other and their lips locked so tightly they would soon need to come up for air, or suffocate. "Oh, I'm so sorry…" Maggie started to say but broke off as she saw the face of the man she'd bumped break away from the brunette he had been kissing. Flashing a sloppy grin at her, George put a finger to his lips, winked at Maggie as if she were in cahoots with him, and pulled the dark haired girl up the stairs behind him.

Reality.

Once again reality kept encroaching on her fantasies. Everyone knew the Beatles cheated on their wives. Everyone knew it. Hell, they were all joking just the other night at Paul's about how the groupies compared notes! But to see it so casually done, almost as if it were only a joke….

Reality.

Again, she reminded herself that she knew the Beatles were no innocents. But that still didn't keep her from feeling a stab of betrayal at seeing George, her friend George, with a woman other than his wife.

No longer wanting alcohol, she poured herself a glass of water with shaky hands. Drinking it calmed her nerves some, and after taking a few deep breaths she felt ready to go back to the party and have a good time. Besides, she was there with John, and that was enough for her. As she turned back to look towards John, about to call out to him and see if maybe he wanted something as well, she felt her stomach clench.

Sitting on his lap was a blond, her lashes rising and falling flirtatiously, as she batted her eyes at him, smiling softly; a red head was sitting in Maggie's seat with her hand resting on his thigh and a simpering smile on her face. John smiled back at both of them politely as the blond pushed herself against him, her breasts nearly popping out of her obscenely tight sweater. The redhead started tracing circles up his thigh with the tip of her index finger. As the blond wound her arm around his neck, he at least had the decency to take both of them by the wrist and gently push them away from him. They went away with a little pout, rebuffed. They hadn't been the first tonight, and they probably wouldn't be the last.

Closing her eyes, Maggie swallowed. What was she doing? She knew the history of these boys' lives, she knew their tendencies. This very subject had been a topic of conversation between her and her online friends countless times. And yet, here she was, thinking that everything was going fine and that maybe, with her presence here, things would change. How naive she had been. If John was willing to cheat on Yoko, the supposed love of his life, then he would be willing to cheat on Maggie too. It would only be a matter of time.

She didn't think she could do this.

Going back to the sofa, Maggie sunk down beside John again, but kept her distance, stiffening as his arm automatically came to wrap around her shoulder once more. Maggie remained sitting up straight though for the rest of the night, her gaze and her stance distant until they left.

On the car ride home, not a word was exchanged. John tried to bring about conversation once they entered the flat, asking her if she had fun, teasingly asking if Mick was everything she ever dreamed of, but Maggie only shrugged before heading to bed.

That night they lay on opposite sides of the bed, neither touching, without even the exchange of a goodnight kiss.

John felt the headache long before he even woke. He felt something swarm within his mind, felt his bones ache, and he felt the dryness of his throat and the stickiness of his mouth. His stomach turned slightly and he knew that this wasn't the aftermath of the party, but because sleep last night hadn't come to him.

He knew on the way home that Maggie had been upset. A blind man could see that she had retreated in to her own thoughts, but he had thought that with a few jokes, she might loosen up. The hope had fallen away though as soon as they arrived home, and she went straight to bed without so much as a glance in his direction. Then she had pretended to be asleep when he wandered in, an hour later.

He had no idea what he'd done wrong. Obviously he'd done something wrong; otherwise she'd be talking to him. But for the life of him he had no idea! He hadn't done any drugs (other than one puff of a joint), he hadn't shagged anyone who wasn't named Maggie, he'd been attentive to her all night, and even left the party early when it was obvious she was not enjoying herself. Hell, by his normal standards he'd been a saint! Yet there it was, she was mad at him.

Women! He'd never understand them. But they sure understood men. It really wasn't fair.

Sighing, John reached up, scrubbing a hand across his face. They needed to talk. She'd tell him what he'd done wrong, he'd apologize and have done with it, and they'd be back to how things were before. Smiling to himself, he heard a slight shuffling sound breaking the stillness of the room that roused him from his thoughts. He opened his eyes and felt any planned words he might have had die in his throat. Maggie stood before him, her bag set out before her, as she shoved her few possessions inside. John sat and watched her silently for a moment, watching the way her hair fell in her eyes and the way she focused on her task so as she wouldn't have to think of anything else.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly after a few beats. Her actions were clear, but he couldn't find anything else to say. This was not a situation he ever thought possible. They had been so happy, things had been so perfect. How had he driven her away?

"What's it look like I'm doing, John?" she said calmly, folding a blouse and stuffing it inside the open bag. "I'm packing."

John blinked. "Why? You planning on going somewhere?" he swallowed thickly. John knew why she was packing, although he held a vain hope that he was mistaken. He had to stall her. He had to figure out what he had done wrong and had to find a way to fix it before she walked out of his life once more. He wouldn't be able to handle it a second time, not after knowing how wonderful and full-color life was when she was truly his. The first time she had visited he'd had but a taste of happiness. Now that he knew what it was to be happy, there was no way he'd give it up.

"No, John, I frequently pack up my things just for shits and giggles, just to see how long it will take me." Closing her bag, Maggie squeezed her eyes shut after seeing John's face. He looked as though he'd been slapped. She'd not meant it to come out like that. She just knew that if she let her guard down for even a moment with this man she'd lose her resolve.

Sighing she focused on her bag and zipped it closed. Packing had taken much less time than she had thought it would; she had less than she thought she did. Shaking her head, trying to clear from it the small voice that was trying to get her to just crawl back in bed and never leave again, Maggie grabbed the shoulder strap of her bag and headed towards the door. John was by her side in seconds though, blocking her exit.

"Wait just one minute, Miss Margaret, there's no need to get shirty with me. It's a fair question," he said, trying to look into her eyes. She turned away from him though, refusing to meet his questioning gaze. "One minute we're having the time of our lives, shagging like rabbits, and the next you are mad at me for no reason that I can see and leaving in a huff. I think I deserve some sort of an explanation at the very least."

Sighing again, Maggie set her bag down. "What is there to explain? I came back to warn you again, and now I've warned you. And I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself for staying, for allowing myself to get attached to you, for believing that this fantasy in my head might actually be true. Last night was a huge wakeup call. You really are John Lennon, and you are always going to be John Lennon, and you are always going to be involved with sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. Always. It's part of who you are, and I can't change that, nor do I want to because I love you for who you are. But I don't fit with that lifestyle, John. I don't fit with your lifestyle… I don't fit. You can't push a square peg into a round hole, John, and so I'm leaving before it gets too difficult for both of us to detach and end it." Her voice was devoid of emotion. It was cool and calculated, almost as though she were explaining a complex mathematical problem, and far more reasonable than John had heard from her since her first trip. She was shrugging their relationship off as a mathematical equation where X could never equal Y, so why bother trying to find a solution when she had already deduced that there wasn't one.

Frowning, John shook his head, hoping to shake something loose in order to better understand what exactly was happening. "Wait a minute, you're leaving because I took a hit off a blunt and some birds flirted with me…and I didn't even encourage them in anyway. In fact, I pushed them away!"

"But that's precisely the point, John. You don't need to encourage them. They are always going to be there. Always! All you ever need do is whistle, and you'll never have to go without. As for drugs, yeah, tonight you just took one hit, but it won't stop there. I know it won't. It will get worse and worse, and I just don't know if I can deal with that. Any of that. In fact, I know I can't."

"What?" John felt his stomach twist at the thought. "No! I would never cheat on you…"

"Right," she laughed cynically. "Just like you never cheated on Cynthia. Or Y…," she stopped herself from saying the other woman's name.

With his gaze darkening, John shook his head. "That's not fair. This is different. We're different." Reaching out, he tried to touch her; Maggie lurched from him though before his fingers could come into contact with her skin.

"Fine," she said, calm once again. "We're different. But let's look at this logically. You cheated on Cynthia all the time. All. The. Time. You would have cheated on Cynthia with me the first night we met had I not stopped you. Does the fact that our relationship is different make what you did to Cynthia okay? Does it make the fact that last night George was going up into a bedroom with a girl who was NOT Pattie okay? How about the fact that Paul keeps this flat so he can cheat on Jane? I assume you so obligingly stay away when he needs it…" John's eyes widened slightly at the last fact. He sometimes wondered what all was known about them in the future. Clearly none of them had any secrets left. "The logical conclusion that I can deduce from all this is when the next girl catches your eye, and you cheat on me with her, it will be OKAY, because it was just sex and it didn't mean anything. Does that all sound that OKAY to you?" Breathing harshly, Maggie finally looked at him, feeling her throat beginning to cinch shut. She had to get out of here before she no longer had the willpower to leave.

John stared at her, open mouthed, her words stinging like a slap to the face and a blow to the gut. With his shoulders hunching forward, he could barely find it in himself to look at her, not even trying to hide how much her words hurt him, yet he didn't answer. He couldn't bring himself to answer because he had nothing to say to refute her logic. Everything she said had been true, and he knew nothing he could say to change that. It was easy for him to push birds away when Maggie was there. But what if she wasn't around when temptation came calling?

Maggie both felt and saw his hesitation, and so, ripping her eyes away from his turned away. "I thought so," she said sadly, simply, and without any hint of accusation. Just calm resignation and acceptance. She picked up her bag, turned, and walked out the door.

John didn't even try to stop her.

* * *

**A/N: **

O**H NOES! Maggie Sue has left John! Whatever will happen next!!???!! Is the story over?? What will John do!??!**

**Drama! Excitement! Adventure! Time Travel! All this and more next time in Chapter 14.**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	16. Chapter Fourteen

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

When we last left Maggie Sue and John, she left and he didn't even try to stop her after hearing why... this is what happens next...

**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen**

As she approached EMI, she furiously wiped the tears from her face, which made her bag slip down her shoulder a little. She had to do this, she kept telling herself, there was no other way. Better to pull out before both she and John got irreparably damaged. She knew the future that was ahead of her if she stayed and she couldn't just handle that. She knew what kind of man John was, and while she absolutely loved and adored him for all the things that made him, well, John… they were also the things that were going to hurt in the end. What kind of an idiot falls in love with a man they know they are not right for? Pressing forward, Maggie tried her hardest to push the hurt look that John had given her out of her mind, knowing that if she dwelt on it too long, she would lose her nerve, turn around, and run back into John's arms. She knew if she did that, then there was no chance of her ever leaving again.

Shaking her head, Maggie felt the disdain for herself deepen as she thought back on how stupid she had been. She had known better and yet she had still stayed. She had literally played God with all their lives and futures and she had gotten lucky, but after that it should have ended. Instead she had indulged in a fantasy and hurt someone that she cared about. Someone she cared more for then any other person she'd ever met. How could she hurt John like that? God, she was an idiot, she needed to go back to him! She couldn't leave him like this. Stopping to turn around, she saw a flash of long dark hair out of the corner of her eye, and reality hit again. If she stayed, what would she do when Yoko came into the picture? She wasn't about to fool herself into believing that he would forget the woman he would spend the next decade just to stay with her. Would she have to do everything in her power to keep him from meeting Yoko? And what if they still met? He'd leave her. He'd leave her, and then she'd be all alone and living in the sixties. With that thought she turned right back around and continued to EMI, more determined then ever to leave.

Living in the sixties? Honestly? Was she crazy? Women were treated like second class citizens at best, and there was no way NASA would hire her now, during the space race, during this day and age. And even if they did, she'd make only half of what a less qualified man would make AND be relegated to secretarial duties. And she didn't even know if England had the equivalent of a space program! Plus no cell phones, no personal computers, and NO INTERNET!

Then there were also the fans. The gatebirds were already a bit nasty towards her, and if she stayed with John she'd have to deal with that forever, as well as deal with constant fame and scrutiny in the public eye. That was the last thing she wanted. She valued her privacy.

On top of that, they would have to create an entirely new identity for her, and hope that no one would discover that she really had popped out from nowhere. Not to mention she didn't know what would happen when her twenty-year-old future self saw a sixty-year-old Mrs. Maggie Sue Lennon who looked just like her when she was younger. And that was even assuming John wanted to marry her! For that matter she had no guarantees that he wanted to spend his life with her. He hadn't even told her that he loved her. She thought he did; he'd implied it in so many ways with looks and actions, the songs he claimed he'd written for her, and little comments here and there, but he'd never actually said the words.

She had.

It was all too confusing, and ridiculous, and she never should have even tried to make it work. No, if Maggie stayed, she would only be miserable and as much as she wished she could simply live in the moment and be content with what was offered to her, Maggie knew that she would only live to regret it, and even worse hurt both she and John in the end, and that was something she just wouldn't do.

Despite all this, despite the fact that she knew she was making the right choice, the logical choice, when she arrived at the front door of EMI, all she could do was stare at the doorknob. The sad truth still remained - she would have dealt with all of that. The drugs, the fans, the sexism against women, the lack of modern conveniences… all that, if only she could be certain that John loved her. If she could have been certain that she wasn't just his current fascination, that the Beatle with the shortest attention span of them all wouldn't get tired of her in a year. That he wouldn't cheat on her, or would, at the very least, try to be faithful. She would have stayed in a heartbeat if she knew that. She would have endured it all if she were secure in the fact that John loved her, because despite his history, Maggie found that she still loved him. Loved him more than she ever thought possible.

She loved him. And so she had to leave. She had to let him be free to be John Lennon, not constrained by her modern day ideologies and moral compass. If she reined him in, she'd have him, yet she'd still lose him.

Feeling a sob escape from her throat, Maggie reached for the doorknob, twisted it slightly, and felt her vision blur.

"Wait!"

Maggie froze as she heard the familiar voice call out from behind her and as much as her brain told her to push open the door in front of her and leave before it was too late, she couldn't find it in herself to move.

"Maggie, Wait!"

Running up behind her, John clutched at his knees and bent over slightly at the waist as he tried to catch his breath. "Wait, please…" he gasped out. "Please, don't go…"

Steeling herself, Maggie stared at the doorknob. "John, I have to… I can't… We can't make this work," she said, trying to force back her tears.

Straightening, John reached for the doorknob, holding it closed and shaking his head, pleading with her in every way that he knew how. "Please. Please Maggie, luv, stay here, stay with me, be with me. I've just spent the two most miserable years of my life without you, and I can't do that again. I need you, girl. I… I love you."

Maggie's head came up on those final words. The three words she had been longing to hear. But how could she be sure? He'd say anything to get her to stay right now. Maybe he meant it. Maybe he did love her. But that still didn't change his nature. He'd love her right up until he started loving someone else. Turning away, Maggie swallowed thickly. Why was it that hard situations always seemed to be made harder? "John, please don't; you're making this harder then it needs to be…"

Her words were cut off as he grabbed her by the arm, turning her towards him roughly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me," he demanded, his voice raw with the emotion that was welling beneath the surface.

Maggie could only stare down at her shoes.

"You can't do it, can you?" he said, his grip on her arm loosening as he felt that small glimmer of hope begin to shine once more. "You can't do it because you're just as mad about me as I am about you, and this nonsense about you leaving is just that. Nonsense." Ducking his head, John tried to look her in the eyes, trying to be truthful with a woman for once in his life. "I love you, and you love me… why can't that be enough?"

Gently, Maggie extracted herself from his arms, and moved away from him. "Sometimes love isn't enough." she swallowed. "Love isn't all you need to make a relationship work. Do you even have any idea of what you've asked of me? Do you have any idea of what you've asked me to give up and go through to stay here with you? You don't, and that's OK because I gave it all up gladly, with no regrets, because you are right, I do love you John, more then you probably realize. But I won't stay to be your current obsession. Someday you'll find someone else, a new obsession, and when you do, it will destroy me. Yes, I know I'm being a selfish coward, but self-preservation is a hard instinct to overcome. I'd rather watch you from a safe distance for the rest of my life then to lose you forever."

John didn't answer, finding that small glimmer of hope only to have it dissipate once more.

Closing her eyes, Maggie only hesitated for a second before opening the door and slipping inside. John stood outside, staring at the now shut door, hit with the knowledge that the woman he loved was leaving him. How many women that he had loved had left him over the years? Now it would be one more.

He hadn't lied to her when he told her how miserable he had been these past few years. Something had been missing in his life and no matter what he did he couldn't seem to find something to replace it, to fill this gaping hole that was deeply embedded in his heart. He'd tried drugs, other women, even wondering for a time if maybe he could make things work with Cynthia. But it was all hollow. Then she had come back and for a while there, everything was good, everything was perfect and he got a taste once more for what he had been missing. His heart had been whole once more. Now she was going to leave again, for good, and John knew that this time it would hurt more than it ever had before, and the wound would never heal.

Without thinking, John pushed open the door and raced after her. He knew "their" hallway instinctively and let his feet carry him where he knew she'd be standing. As he rounded the corner, there she was, standing in front of the photo that brought her to him, tears streaking her face.

Finding no time to waste, John charged towards her, hurling himself at her just as she winked out of reality.

* * *

**A/N: **

**OH NOES!!!11!1!! Maggie Sue is gone!!!! Back to the future!!!! Did John catch her in time??!!!!??? Did he travel to the future with her???!!!!??? Do you think I could possibly use more exclamation points???!!!!!1!???? Find out all this and MORE next week!!!!!!!!!!11!!!1!**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	17. Chapter Fifteen

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

Did John catch Maggie Sue in time or are they meant to be forever apart???

Though it would be a pretty crappy story if we ended it like that, don't you think? ;)

**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen**

John opened his eyes to blurred spots of color. He was disoriented until he realized that his impaired vision was just the result of having had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. As his vision cleared, he saw the most beautiful sight standing before him.

Maggie, tears frozen on her face, stared at him in complete confusion.

"Oh no! What have you done?" Her eyes were wide and her voice was full of fear as she stared at him, feeling her heart beat rapidly behind her rib cage.

"What have I done? What have you done?" John asked grabbing her arm, afraid to let her go again.

Shaking her head as she tried to reject this reality, Maggie began to panic. "No, no, no, this wasn't supposed to happen! You… you shouldn't have done that." she accused, pointing a finger at him, her hand shaking as it hung in mid air.

"I shouldn't have done that? How am I in the wrong here? How could you just leave me like that?" John counter-accused, not seeming to have yet realized the predicament they had put themselves in.

Letting her arm drop, Maggie looked at him. A headache was beginning to form behind her eyes and suddenly all she felt like doing was giving up and crawling back in his arms. She knew that would be giving into her fantasy once again - and that was what had gotten her into this dilemma in the first place. "I had to. I'm so sorry, but I had to. At least I thought I did," she whispered. Yet, her words began to falter even as she spoke. Overwhelmed by emotion, she automatically switched on her analytical side. "John, there was no logical way for us to stay together in your time."

"Fuck logic!"

"John, it's not that easy. You're a Beatle, you're an icon – I can't be the person who makes you give that up, but I can't live with an icon, and everything that it entails. I'm not that strong."

Licking his lips, he looked at her dejected form. "Well, now I'm just John," he stated quietly.

Feeling her tears threaten to brim over once more, Maggie swallowed thickly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."

As her eyes trailed to the floor, John reached out for her. With gentle fingers, he tipped her chin upwards, forcing her to look at him. "What for? I'm the one who choose to come here to be with you."

Maggie frowned. "Wait, so you did that on purpose?"

"Well, if you wouldn't stay, and I can't live without you, then there was only one solution, wasn't there? It's not the first one I would have chosen, but then I don't feel like I really had a choice in the matter, did I? I don't think I'd ever be a whole man again if you left me for good. It's like you said, self-preservation is a hard instinct to overcome. I'd rather give all that other stuff up for the rest of me life then to lose you forever." Smiling, John hesitated only a moment before taking a step forward. "So, it looks like I'll have to stay with you in the future. Or rather, the present." He winced, now finally understanding how Maggie had felt these past couple of weeks. "Bloody hell, I'm confused." he smiled wryly. "Look, I don't care, just so long as I get to stay with you."

She felt herself want to give in again, to let out shouts of approval as she threw her arms around him. But she restrained herself so she could ponder his words. While the idea seemed sound for the first few seconds after it was said, Maggie couldn't help but wonder how John would do in the future. A future where he was no longer famous and was forty years out of the loop on everything. Absolutely everything was different now. She had been thrust into his world, but she had had the benefit of a youth misspent on absorbing everything she could about the Beatles. He wouldn't have that luxury. He would have to start from scratch and there was no telling if he would be able to break into music again, or even adjust to it all.

At the very thought of that, Maggie felt herself inwardly groan.

By staying with her, the Beatles were no more. There would be no more albums, no more interviews or concerts and the world would be cheated out of some of their best work.

Oh no, Paul!

If she allowed him to stay, she would be breaking the promise she had made him and the trust she had worked so hard to build with him. This could conceivably destroy him. She would be stealing away his best friend, and his lifeline until Linda came around. Maggie froze as another thought berated her. What if Paul never met the love of his life because of this?

And then there was Julian. There was no way she was going to deprive that little boy of his father. If for nothing else, he was going to go back for Julian.

She smiled inwardly as realization hit her. John was still willing to give all that up. All of that was nothing compared to her in his mind. He did love her. He was willing to walk away from it all just so he could be with her.

Turning her gaze to him, Maggie felt her heart race and her voice quiver. "No."

John stared at her, struggling for a moment with what she had just said. "What?"

"No," she repeated. "You can't stay with me. We have to get you back right away." She was beginning to turn frantic at all the possible events that could have happened while he was here. Time moved differently. She had to remember that, and the longer they waited… "Oh, no – what if we send you back and two more years have passed? Why did you have to grab me?"

Running her fingers through her hair, Maggie took in a deep breath, struggling to fight back the onslaught of tears. How could she take away Julian's father? Paul's best friend? Oh, she was the most selfish of all creatures! If only he hadn't grabbed onto her! If only she'd never left!

"Luv," John breathed, taking another step towards her, seeing the guilt swimming through her eyes. "I've been a Beatle for what seems like a hundred years. I could use a break from it." She looked at him, about to open her mouth and tell him all the reasons why he had to return, but John stopped her. "I know," he said seriously. "I know just what I'm giving up… I know who I'm giving up. But isn't the reality that they all have to do without me in a few years anyway? And if I stay here, won't I avoid 1980 all together? Am I a coward for not wanting to die? Besides, I want to see this future of yours where women can drive and vote!" he smiled at that, his excitement only growing at the possibilities that lay before him now. "Do you know, I could walk anywhere I wanted here – total freedom?! No fans chasing me, grabbing at me."

Maggie's stared at him, watching the wonder spread across his face, watching the burden of Beatlehood lifted off his shoulders. He was nearly giddy with everything he could now do. She pictured him looking around him with wide eyes, trying to soak up each and every little detail that would now be new to him. She knew this feeling all too well. She knew the excitement that came with this brand new adventure, but she also knew the buzz would wear off. After all, he was now in a world where he couldn't smoke indoors, or get drugs as readily and freely as he once did. And that was just for starters.

"No," she stated firmly. "We have to get you back. You can't just leave Julian, or Paul for that matter. They need you. The world needs you. As much as I want you to be 'just John' my John, I know that can't ever happen. I'm a selfish creature, but even I can't rob the world, or your loved ones, of this."

Turning his attention back towards her, John felt his heart fall. She was serious about this. He was serious too; he didn't want to return and have to deal with a broken heart again.

"I'm not leaving without you," he stated. "We need to be together; if not for your sake, for mine. I love you, Maggie. I know you're an independent lass, but I think that if we stick together, I can be the man you want me to be; I won't cheat on you. And I won't use drugs. We can make this work, we just have to try."

Maggie looked at him doubtfully, cocking up one eyebrow.

"What? You don't believe me?"

At the slight sound of hurt in his voice, Maggie sighed. She couldn't do this to him. She knew what his future held, he didn't. "I believe that you believe that you won't cheat on me, and I believe that you will try to be faithful and that you will try to stay away from the drugs… And I do believe that you love me, and I know that I love you… and… I don't want to leave you…" Maggie paused for a moment, fighting an eternal battle with herself and trying her hardest to find the best course of action. There was really only one decision that would work, and it really was the only one Maggie could see herself ever possibly being happy with. "I'll…I'll go back with you – it's more important for you to be where you belong. I'm no one important here. We'll just deal with the rest as it comes." Swallowing, she reached for his hands, threading her fingers with his.

"That's not true, you're important to me everywhere. Promise me no more running away from me back to the future?" he asked, squeezing her hand gently.

Maggie nodded. "No more running, I promise."

John looked at her doubtfully.

"You don't believe me?" Laughter colored her voice as she looked at him.

With an exaggerated sigh, John rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, obviously mocking her. "I believe that you believe you won't run away, though you've left me twice now. It was quite a long, lost weekend without you last time!"

Reaching out, Maggie smacked him on the shoulder, laughing at him. John easily caught her wrist though, pulling her into a kiss. As John dipped her back, kissing her deeply, he tried to pour everything he felt into that kiss, solidifying their commitment and trying his hardest to reassure her that he wouldn't hurt her. To show her that they were both making the right decision.

Begrudgingly, they broke away from each other, looking into one another's eyes for a few seconds, and trading familiar emotions. Nodding her head, Maggie straightened and as she took him by the hand, they turned to stare at the picture.

Only, the photo was gone. In fact, in her confused emotional state, it was only now that Maggie realized they were not standing inside of EMI. Maggie recognized the room they were in as the new office she'd been shown during the orientation for her new job. The job she was supposed to officially start after her vacation. It was just a week ago that she'd stood in here for the first time - but it felt like a lifetime ago.

"Where'd it…? How did we…?" Maggie licked her lips, feeling a sense of panic swell within her as she looked around the room. When he saw her alarm, John looked around him and felt immediately panicked – where was EMI?

"Where are we?" John whispered, confused.

"Somehow we ended up in my office in Washington D.C. Maybe it's because I was focused on going home? How are we ever going to get you back now? There's no EMI, no picture of you to focus on." She waved at the blank wall in front of them. She said all this more to herself than John, as her mind quickly ran through every possible scenario. The thought of home was the only logical explanation that belonged in this impossible equation.

Looking at the wall and the spot Maggie indicated, John frowned. "Well, what if we just concentrate on the wall instead? Maybe it'll still work."

Maggie frowned. There wasn't much else they could do. But as they looked at it together, focusing and trying to get back to the sixties, nothing happened. No matter what they did, whether it be taking turns or focusing in a combined effort, they stayed where they were, solidly in 2006.

"I'm thinking that we're stuck here in the future," John stated, turning to Maggie. He didn't look too upset over the prospect. "It was your plan all along wasn't it? To lure me here with promises of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll?"

Maggie shrugged. "Well, it worked didn't it?" She grinned at him suddenly, "You wanton hussy you!"

Grinning, John wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "That's my line, luv."

Maggie felt herself smile as well, but only for a minute. The reality of what was happening was starting to sink in. She was starting to really hate reality. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice growing slightly worried. She was finding that she was too tired to care as much as she should have. After all, with the possibility of going back being taken away from them that meant that they didn't have to deal with the consequences of their actions like she thought they might. It was no longer her fault that Julian had no father and Paul had lost his best friend and writing partner, right? She'd tried to get him back… shouldn't that be enough to satisfy karma? But more importantly, would it satisfy her guilt for being secretly glad that she got her wish? She was going to get John, just John, all for herself. No Beatles, no fans, and yet there would still be music, and it would all be hers. No one could blame her for this, right?

Steering her away from the wall, John dropped a kiss on top of her head. "I think it's time to make good on those promises of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll!" he announced loudly. "Let's go back to your flat."

Maggie shook her head. "Apartment."

"What?"

"Apartment." she repeated. "I live in America, it's an apartment. And I think I can make good on at least one of your three requests."

"Well, as long as at least one of them involves you getting naked, I won't complain."

Maggie laughed, vowing to put aside her worry and guilt for at least a couple of hours. "I think that can be arranged."

Without hesitating, John dragged her forward. "Great! Let's go!"

* * *

**A/N: **

**And the time travel ping pong has begun! Woohoo!!! **

**OH NOES!!! What will Maggie Sue do???? How will she return John to the 60's??? How will his disappearance affect modern music??? But most importantly what will John think of Rap!?!**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

What does John think of 2006?

**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen**

Maggie had no idea what else she was supposed to do. The fear was bubbling in her stomach, threatening to spill out and she found herself having to pull out of her analytical thoughts and the repercussions her brain was throwing at her. It was like a war between her mind and her heart. She was secretly glad John couldn't go back, yet she was waiting for the world to come crashing down at any moment because of her destruction of the timeline. In the back of her mind, she was still hoping that the fact that the world hadn't halted yet was due to the fact that somewhere in the not-too-distant future, she had figured out how to get John home. For now she was trying to force herself to live in the moment, and wait until things had calmed down so that she could think about it properly and try to puzzle the solution out. A solution was out there, she was sure of it; she just had to sit and think. Maggie knew she wasn't in the proper mindset to be capable of that right now. That, and she didn't think she really even wanted to find the solution at all. At least, not yet.

So, true to her word, Maggie took John back to her apartment and made good on her promises several times. She was tired, emotionally exhausted, and frankly, glad to be home, amongst her own things. She began to pick up the pieces of her life. She called the London hotel where she had been staying, and had them ship her things to her, stating that she'd had a family emergency and had needed to leave quite suddenly. She called her office to tell them she was back, and would come into work in a few days. Things were returning to normal. Except for the fact that John Lennon was sleeping in her bed. A 26-year-old John Lennon who had time-traveled with her from 1966. It was too unreal to be believed, so she pushed that little fact aside. She was home.

But, in the middle of the night, as John slumbered soundly beside her, she still questioned if she was doing the right thing. As much as she tried to push those thoughts aside, more often than not, she failed miserably. What else could she do? Have John look at pictures at himself on the internet, hoping that one of them might send him back where he belonged?

The days went quickly, as John eagerly embraced Maggie's life and her world. Both of them found it amusing when he discovered new things, or when she had to explain something that she generally took for granted. The internet and computers seemed to be the biggest topic of interest for him. For days he was filled with questions about the contraption sitting on her desk and Maggie had to break it to him that most of the world was now ran by them.

"That's fucking disturbing." John said with a grin, running his fingers over the top of her Macbook and taking delight in pressing the little button to get it to whir to life. Despite his words, Maggie knew that this little machine excited him. Most everything he saw now did. She remembered hearing him frantically calling her name one morning. Jumping out of bed, thinking something was wrong; she had run into the living room, searching for him. She found him on the sofa staring at the TV in amazement.

"They just said 'fuck' on the telly!" he stated in astonishment, pointing at the TV. Maggie looked confused for a moment before figuring out that HBO would be a novelty to him as well.

"Yeah, they can do that now. Well, at least on pay-TV. They even say it on music albums too."

"The little things you call CD's can say 'fuck'?" he asked, amused by the prospect. He insisted they spend the rest of the day on the sofa watching a Sex and the City marathon, so they could cheer any time the TV said a naughty word.

To both show off modern movie technology, and to fill John in on the last 40 years of the space program, Maggie took him to see an IMAX show at the Air & Space Museum. The wonder and glee which were clearly apparent on John's face was only furthered as Maggie explained to him the basic principles behind everything. He seemed to have a voracious appetite for knowledge and his curiosity was never sated.

Unfortunately, Maggie also had the job of explaining the less fun rules of modern society to John, in particular, the "no smoking" rules and the fact that she had no idea how she could go about scoring drugs. He seemed utterly confused by both statements, almost not believing her until Maggie had shown him information on the smoking bans on the internet. That led to a whole other series of questions as John wanted to know just how she got that information so quickly and Maggie had to look up the history of the internet for him. They didn't call it the information super-highway for nothing. He was amazed that you could look up any piece of information at the touch of a button – and had to be persuaded that it was better not to look up his former bandmates. Maggie had been tempted many times, but had yet to bring herself to find out just how badly John's disappearance had screwed up Paul and the others. They would have to face it eventually, but she kept promising that they would do it tomorrow.

When they weren't talking or exploring, their time was filled with music. Maggie had bought more music then she even knew what to do with during the course of her life, and most nights she would wake to John listening to some new sound; modern music was something that fascinated him to no end. Maggie had to laugh every time he heard something he particularly liked. His eyes would light up, and he would back it up, listening to the same chord progression over and over again. He hardly slept, in fact, wanting to spend his nights instead soaking up what the modern world had to offer. Maggie knew that later Beatle music was much more avant garde than their early Please Please Me days, and couldn't help wondering if it was his time in the future that had given the Beatles this different sound. This once again allowed her the small hope that she had succeeded in getting John back to the past. If she hadn't, would any memory of later Beatle music even exist for her? Would her memory of her present be affected by all the changes to the timeline, or were she and John outside of it? Too many questions.

In her less philosophical moments, Maggie had to giggle to herself as she pictured John explaining to their poor sound engineer that he wanted his song to sound like an orange.

"No one is going to know what you mean by that," she laughed at him, when he brought this very thing up.

"Why not?"

"Because an orange doesn't have sound."

"It does if you're on acid, luv."

Maggie rolled her eyes. They were listening to Maggie's XM radio (John still couldn't believe that there were over 100 different stations to pick from), laying with their heads together on the bed after another bout of "promises" were fulfilled.

As the song changed, Maggie found herself drifting off to sleep a little, beginning to slip away. John sat up quickly though, jolting her out of her hazy feeling.

"Is that Mick?" he asked. Maggie frowned, listening for a moment before nodding. "I've never heard that one before," John said.

"That's because that album came out last year," Maggie replied.

"The fucking Stones are still together?" he laughed, not quite believing it.

Maggie nodded once more while yawning. "And they're touring and making albums. Type them into Google or Wikipedia and you'll see them."

Hoping from the bed, John did just that, but pushed himself away from the computer at the sight of one of their pictures. "Keith looks like a fucking corpse!"

"Hence the reason why I don't like you doing drugs." Maggie yawned again.

John frowned. "I can type any name I want into this thing and information will come up about them?" John had been in the future for long enough to know that the information on his former bandmates was out there. John's query made it seem like he was ready to know. They had put it off long enough. Maggie steeled herself.

"Basically," Maggie looked down. "We should really look up the others so we can see how badly we screwed up their lives by keeping you in the future. I just haven't been able to bring myself to do it."

John barely even heard her as he started to type in names, the internet dispassionately informing him of the drug-related deaths of so many of the people he knew or had partied with. He felt his stomach roll in protest. The thought of people he had seen only a few weeks earlier dead and gone, because of something that they all indulged in often, horrified him.

"Oh God, no… Brian…" John stared horrified at the computer screen, reading about Brian Epstein's accidental overdose in 1967. "Maggie, I need you to look, I need you to tell me that the other three are OK, that they're still alive. I… I can't do it. I can't look. But I need to know."

Maggie leaned over John's shoulder while he squeezed his eyes shut, and quickly scanned over the bios of Paul, George, and Ringo. "They're fine, John, they're still alive." At her words John seemed to crumble – both in relief that they were ok, but also grief that so many of his friends were not.

Maggie silently led John over to the bed and held him while he shook, silently crying, mourning the deaths of so many. She had not told him what else she had seen displayed on the screen about the other three. At last she was confronted by the truth of what they had done. They had been so happy in their little bubble, just the two of them, but she had known it couldn't last forever. And so now she knew. And seeing John's profound sadness, she couldn't help but keep it all to herself for now. She knew he would feel compelled to look again later, perhaps while she was asleep or at work. He'd learn how the remaining Beatles' lives had deteriorated after John had suddenly disappeared. How Ringo had gone back to drinking heavily and was now currently serving a life sentence for vehicular manslaughter after killing three people in a drinking and driving incident. How George had moved to India and become a complete recluse after his first solo work had bombed. Without a few more years as a Beatle, George had not had the time to develop as a songwriter and hadn't yet been prepared to go at it alone. And worst of all, how Paul, having never met Linda, had gone through more relationships than seemed humanly possible. He was now on his 6th divorce, completely broke because of all his alimony and child support payments, and was something of a joke in the music industry. She hadn't even dared look up Julian and what fate held for him, and didn't even allow herself to think about the unborn Sean.

After John had finally fallen asleep, Maggie made herself examine her shelf of Beatle CDs, finally seeking the answer to her late night ponderings. Every Beatle album she owned from Sgt Pepper on was gone. Maggie liked her CDs to be organized so they were all alphabetized on her shelves. Feeling like listening to some Crowded House, she flipped through the C section. There weren't any Crowded House CDs on the shelf. They were all missing. She ran through all her albums, letter by letter – more than just Crowded House was missing. ELO was nowhere to be seen. Oasis, gone. Well, she'd never been a big fan of Oasis – but still – so much music gone.

_I guess John never goes back,_ she thought to herself. Was it because they never found a way to send him back, or because her selfishness had kept him here, with her, in her modern world? The idea that she was solely responsible for the misery of George, Paul, and Ringo, and that she had also single-handedly changed the face of modern music by depriving them of what had once inspired them was overwhelming.

All she knew was that she couldn't burden him with any of this knowledge, not now, not ever. She was afraid he would hate her for being the cause of it all. And she made an important decision. She just had to find a way to get him back to the past.

* * *

**A/N: **

**NO CROWDED HOUSE!!!! *gasp* NO ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA!!!! *sob* NO OASIS!!!!! *YAY!* what??? oh, sorry about that, I mean *OH NOES!!!* ;) At anyrate, what will Maggie Sue do??? How will this brilliant Physicist get John back to 1966??? How long can she keep from John knowing what really happened to the other Beatles??? And most importantly, who knew John Lennon would be a "Sex & the City" fan? ;)**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen**

When Maggie had called her job to say she was back, she'd asked if she could push her start date off another week, again giving the excuse of some sort of family emergency. Since she was genuinely distraught by everything, her words had been believed without question. She felt a bit guilty, but surely disrupting the space-time continuum constituted an emergency.

She had been in email contact with her band (most who were friends from grad school) since she'd been home though, some of whom were also doing postdocs at NASA too. She knew that she couldn't put them off forever. Plus, she didn't want to. She thought she had learned a lot, musically, from her time in the 60s, and she was eager to show off! Also, she wanted to take John to her band practice and to share with him what he had once shared with her. She thought it might help get John out of the funk he had been in, since discovering the not-so-good news about the people from his now-past.

Of course, they'd already concocted a story about John being a Beatle impersonator. Her band would never believe he was the real thing.

When she had brought him in, her bandmates' eyes went wide before they instantly began to tease her about coming back from England with a fake John Lennon as a souvenir. John did nothing to discourage it either, finding it hilarious.

"I actually get told all the time that I look like him. I don't see it, but then again, who am I to complain? He was a handsome devil and a musical genius as well."

Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Don't let him fool you. He's in a Beatles impersonator band because of his looks. He's really got no talent."

Sighing heavily, John responded to that with an exaggerated imitation of himself, mimicking playing the guitar as be bobbed his knees and shook his hair, going "ooooh." They all got a laugh out of that, though Maggie got two laughs. If only they knew.

"I suppose it's time for a formal introduction. Everyone, this is my new boyfriend, um… Winston." Maggie began while John glared at her. Elbowing him she continued, "Winston, this is my band. That's Rick on lead guitar, Bob on drums, and Karl on bass. And as you know, I'm rhythm guitar and vocals."

"Just like me!" he grinned and leaned in to kiss her cheek while he whispered in her ear, "You are going to pay for that. You know I hate that name!" Maggie smiled sweetly up at him and batted her lashes prettily. She elbowed him once more before leaning down to pick up her guitar. "So Winston, what shall we play?" she laughed, handing John her spare acoustic.

Smiling down at her, he threw the guitar over his head as he turned to address the band. "Does everyone know _One after 909_?"

Music and playing with her band had definitely been the right thing to do. Though Maggie was no closer to figuring out how to get John back to 1966, she found that they were both in much better moods.

Gradually they settled into a routine. Maggie had finally started her new job, and was spending her days at work, while John spent his days in the apartment writing songs, watching TV, and enjoying the freedom of not having girls scream and yell at him or reporters hounding him everywhere he went. Maggie's apartment was small, but in a nice neighborhood in Washington, and John enjoyed his long, anonymous strolls.

As Maggie had expected, eventually the newness began to wear off for John. Though he loved his freedom, he found himself missing being a Beatle. This shocked him, because at home he had hated how it had defined him so absolutely, even if it got the birds to spread their legs for him without any effort on his part.

At home, he was used to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Mal wasn't here to go fetch whatever John had gotten a whim for. He didn't have an unlimited income. In fact he had no income since he had no job. He missed Julian. He missed Ringo and George, and he really missed Paul. He missed writing with Paul, and felt like some of his creativity had been drained out of him without Paul there.

Tapping his pen on his thigh, John stared down at a piece of paper, the words he had written beginning to blur together. He could hear Maggie somewhere in the background as she readied herself for the day and he found that he took more meaning out of that, then the strand of letters he had been staring at for the past hour.

Coming up behind him, Maggie draped her arms over his shoulders, resting her cheek against his. "What are you working on?"

"Nothing," he mumbled, taking the piece of paper and crumpling it between his palms. Maggie watched as he threw it into the wastebasket; the one that was already filled to the brim with similar pieces of paper. Without Paul, he had no one to bounce ideas off of and ultimately, it was starting to affect John and Maggie's relationship.

Almost imperceptibly at first, John started to withdraw into himself. Maggie didn't know what to do, any more than John knew how to reassure Maggie after that disastrous party at Donovan's. Maggie wanted to be enough for John, but she knew that she never would be. She didn't doubt his love, but he had given up everyone else he loved for her. She would have to put more thought into how to get him home. For now though, she was going to try her hardest to get him out of the rut he was slowly sinking in to.

"Why don't you come with me today?" she asked, straightening back up.

John frowned. "Where?"

Maggie knew she had already told him where she was going today but didn't feel like arguing the point with him. He had enough on his mind as it was. "I'm giving a talk over at the University of Maryland on "Signatures of Planets in Circumstellar Debris Disks." Maggie looked at him nervously. She was hoping this would be a way to introduce John to her professional world and maybe show off a bit in the process.

John looked at her. "What?"

Maggie smiled. "Science," she explained. "Like I said, not only can women drive cars and vote, but we are also kind of smart."

Taking in a deep breath, John gave her a little smile as he pushed out all thoughts of the song he was trying to write. It was no use anyway. No, he had to learn how to adapt to this modern world without his friends, The Beatles, and Paul. He'd made a conscious decision to come here, and he would make it work. Getting up from the chair, John nodded his head and plastered a smile on his face. "Alright then, let's go and watch you show off," he teased.

John didn't have an ID of any useful sort, so she couldn't get him into NASA, but no one would ask for one at the Maryland University where she was giving her presentation. Plus, there would be a small social after the talk, so John could meet more of her friends. She wasn't sure he'd understand much of what she planned to say, but she wanted to show him what women could accomplish in her time. She wasn't a Beatle, but she did have a PhD.

Her talk went very well, though she got nervous every time she looked over at John. She worried that he would be bored, or nod off. On the contrary, John had been impressed by Maggie's knowledge of science. He couldn't say he found her talk boring, because he enjoyed studying her as she spoke. He liked seeing what excited her mentally. But beyond that, he found the whole thing incomprehensible. He knew she was talking about planets with stars. Or stars with planets. Something with planets. He'd barely absorbed her introductory slide when she'd flipped her computer-thing to the second slide, and the equations started flying. Equations with lots of indecipherable characters, which Maggie was obviously very familiar with. John felt dumber by the minute.

Things didn't improve at the social.

John was used to walking into a party and having all eyes (and blondes and brunettes) on him. He was clearly out of his depth here.

Maggie had been tentative after her talk until John had beamed at her proudly. He was proud of her, and tried to swallow his growing insecurity, hoping she couldn't see it. Afraid she would see how stupid he felt showing on his face, John excused himself and went off in search of a wash room. After making sure he was alone, he gave himself a pep talk in the mirror. The pep talk had partly involved him fussing with his hair, his famous hair, which the birds went batty over. He was Beatle John. Women screamed and cried and fainted in his presence. Maggie was lucky to have him – didn't she know how many would kill to be in her place? John didn't have his PhD, but he was a Beatle.

Feeling much better, he emerged from his hideout, and scanned the room to see Maggie talking to a curly-haired man. They were standing close together and laughing. What really caught John's eye though was the fact that the man kept touching Maggie's arm, and she didn't seem to be discouraging him. He was instantly jealous.

John strolled over and draped a possessive arm around Maggie's shoulders.

"Hi, Winston," Maggie said. He cringed at the name and as he felt Maggie begin to pull loose from his grip, he felt his insides clench. He dropped his arm before she wiggled away from him.

"This is Nick," Maggie said, gesturing to the curly haired man before them. "We used to date back at Harvard. He's an assistant professor here at Maryland now."

"Nice to meet you," Nick had said, smiling at John and revealing a mouth full of big pearly white straight teeth. _Bloody yanks and their teeth_, John thought to himself.

"Nice to meet you too. What did you think of Miss Margaret's talk?"

"Fantastic!" Nick exclaimed. He turned to Maggie. "I see you included the recent result from Eric's Ap J paper."

"Yes – well, I liked the solution they proposed for the underluminosity of 2M1207B - you know, the hot afterglow from a protoplanet collision," she added for John's benefit. The conversation even less intelligible after that, and John found himself wishing he were at Donovan's party, holding a rum and coke and a joint. That was something he could understand. Despite his innate cleverness, John had never done well at school, and had even managed, over the years, to convince himself that he was too clever by half for formal education. Hell, he'd been almost proud of his unimpressive academic record. Right now though, for the first time in his life, John felt stupid and completely out of his league.

John tuned back into the conversation as Nick was inviting Maggie to some scientific conference in New York to which Maggie was excitedly agreeing to go.

John stared out the window most of the Metro ride home, offering only slight nods of his head or minor grunts when Maggie tried to engage him in conversation. She could tell something was wrong, but any time she tried to get it out of him, he pretended as if he simply didn't hear.

When they got back to her apartment, he didn't even turn to her. Instead, she flipped on the lights, getting ready for some form of conversation, only to watch him walk straight to the bedroom. She stood there, stunned for a few moments before deciding that maybe he just needed a few minutes alone. She felt that way herself at times.

When she walked into the room an hour later, he laid still under the sheets, pretending to be asleep. Not knowing what else to do, Maggie laid down beside him, staring at the wall for the rest of the night.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Take that Johnny boy! How do you like being the fish out of water this time around??!!! And Maggie-Sue, what were you thinking talking to an ex-boyfriend when you of all people should know just how jealous John gets!? *tsk tsk* So now we are right back were we were after Donovan's party... will John pull a "Maggie" and run for it? Leave her and go racing back to the 60's and a world he understands? Or will he be stronger then Maggie and stay to tough it out and make it work?**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	20. Chapter Eighteen

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen**

Maggie felt the headache long before she even woke. She felt something swarm within her mind, felt her bones ache, and she felt the dryness of her throat and the stickiness of her mouth. Her stomach turned slightly and she knew that this wasn't the aftermath of the party, it was because sleep last night hadn't come to her.

She knew on the way home that John had been upset. A blind man could see that he had retreated into his own thoughts, but she had thought that with a few jokes, he might loosen up. That hope had fallen away as soon as they arrived home and he went straight to bed without so much as a glance in her direction. Then he had pretended to be asleep when she wandered in an hour later.

She had no idea what she'd done wrong. Obviously she'd done something, otherwise he'd be talking to her. But for the life of her she had no idea! She'd been attentive to him all night, explaining things so that he would understand what was being discussed, and she had even left the party early when it was obvious he was not enjoying herself. Yet there it was; he was mad at her.

Men! They were so stupid. He couldn't possibly be upset with her for talking to her ex-boyfriend… could he? Well, he was a self-professed "jealous guy". Cringing a bit, she recalled "Run for Your Life" as being one of her least favorite Beatles songs. Still, that was just stupid of him. She was obviously in love with him, not Nick.

Sighing, Maggie reached up, and scrubbed a hand across her face. They needed to talk. He'd tell her what she'd done wrong, then she'd explain to him how he was being silly, then he'd apologize for being silly and have done with it, and they'd be back to how things were before.

Smiling to herself, she heard a slight shuffling sound that roused her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes and she felt any planned words she might have had, die in her throat. John sat at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his face turned to the wall. Next to his feet lay her backpack, with some of his things spilling out.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly after a few beats. His actions were clear, but she couldn't find anything else to say. This was not a situation she ever thought possible. They had been so happy, things had been so great. How had she driven him away?

"I was packing," he mumbled.

Maggie blinked. "Why? You planning on going somewhere?" She swallowed thickly. Maggie knew why he was packing, although she held a vain hope that she was mistaken. She had to stall him. She had to figure out what she had done wrong and had to find a way to fix it before he walked out of her life. She wouldn't be able to handle it, not after knowing how wonderful and full of color life was when he was truly hers. Now that she knew what it was to be happy, and to live, to really live, there was no way she'd give it up.

"No. I realized after packing I had nowhere to go. I'm stuck here, completely at your mercy," John said miserably. Kicking the bag, he squeezed his eyes shut after seeing Maggie's face. She looked as though she'd been slapped. He'd not meant it to come out like that. He just knew that if he let his guard down for even a moment with this woman he'd lose his resolve.

"Wh… why would you say that?" Maggie asked hesitatingly. "I don't understand," she said, trying to look into his eyes. He turned away from her though, refusing to meet her questioning gaze. "Are you… mad at me?"

Sighing again, John turned to her. "Yes, well, no. I mean, no." Growing frustrated, John stared at the floor. Once again, he felt nothing more than completely lost. But at least when he was lost before, he had his friends, the same friends that were going through the same thing, to lean on. Now it felt as if he had nothing. "I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself for following you," he sighed. "For falling in love with you, for acting just like Paul and believing that a fantasy in my head might actually be true. Last night was a huge wake-up call. You are a brilliant, beautiful, talented, amazing scientist. Hell, I don't think I understand a quarter of what was said last night. You play in a band, you are successful… me, well, I'm no one now. You have an amazing career, a perfect life, you have everything you need, and all I am is a leech with no job, no money, and nothing to bring to this relationship. I don't fit with your lifestyle… I simply don't fit. You were right; you can't push a square peg into a round hole." His voice was dead, completely devoid of emotion.

Frowning, Maggie shook her head, hoping to shake something loose in order to better understand what exactly was happening. "Wait a minute; you want to leave because you didn't understand the lecture last night, and because I had conversation with a colleague that you thought was a little hard to follow? Don't you think that's a bit extreme?"

"Not at all, Maggie. Because you see, it's not just that. I don't fit here. I don't fit with you. You're brilliant, you send things into space and in your spare time, just for fun, you do what I do as a career. I'm useless, and sooner or later you're going to see that. And then you'll get bored with me. Before I was John Lennon, I was a Beatle, I could give you anything you wanted. Now, I'm "Winston," a guy who looks kind of like a Beatle, but that's it. Soon it won't be enough, and then you'll find another man who's just as brilliant as you, and you'll leave me and the two of you will have brilliant babies," John finished, staring resignedly at his feet.

"What?" Maggie felt her stomach twist at the thought. "No! I would never get tired of you…"

"You will!" he laughed cynically. "Just look at me, Maggie, I'm nothing anymore. I-I'm just John."

Realization of just what John was saying hit Maggie like a ton of bricks. He didn't understand, he didn't know that she loved him for simply being him, that none of that other stuff mattered to her. Scooting across the bed, and laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder, she tried to catch his eye. "That's right. You're just John, and you're my John. It's you I love. Not a Beatle, not a rock star, not someone who can buy me anything I want, but you. Don't you see how much easier everything's been for me since we left? I haven't had to worry about fans hating me, about whether you were going to OD on some new drug, about whether some crazed lunatic was going to try to kill you… I've had the most amazing few weeks getting to be selfish and keep you all to myself…no other Beatles to share you with, no fans, no one else but me." His eyes met hers at that, and taking it as encouragement she scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder while wrapping her arms around his chest. "I know I have to give you back, and I'm trying to find a way to get you back home, but please, please don't ever think, even for a minute, that I love you because of your fame and your name. I even love you when you're Winston." They both giggled a bit at that, and Maggie knew that they were going to be all right. "And if you ever think again that I'd ever get bored with you, then perhaps you are as stupid as you seem to think you are."

"Is that right, Miss Margaret?"

"That's right, Monsieur Winston."

At that, John pounced on her and tickled her until she gave in and together they fulfilled some more promises. It was going to be a great day.

--

At 3am the following evening, Maggie was woken up by John, who had his guitar with him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Inspiration struck, and I wrote you a song. You inspired so many when you were gone, and now that I have you, I'm not as tortured as an artist. But I dug deep and came up with this. I hope you like it."

Maggie looked at him expectantly, wondering if she would recognize the song, or if it would be something entirely new, born out of the altered history they had created together.

John started strumming. And she recognized it instantly.

_All my little plans and schemes,_

_lost like some forgotten dreams._

_Seems that all I really was doing_

_was waitin' for you. _

Maggie started to tear up as John sang to her, his plaintive voice so familiar, and now so dear to her.

_Just like little girls and boys,_

_Playing with their little toys._

_Seems like all we really were doing_

_was waitin' for love. _

The last time she had heard this song was on a quivery demo, just John and a piano, calling out to her from beyond the grave.

_Don't need to be alone,_

_No need to be alone._

_It's real love, it's real_

_Yes it's real love, it's real_

But here he was, against all odds. Alive and very real, if out of place and out of time.

_From this moment on I know,_

_Exactly where my life will go._

_Seems that all I really was doing_

_was waitin' for love._

_Thought I'd been in love before,_

_But in my heart I wanted more._

_Seems like all I really was doing_

_was waitin' for you. _

He smiled at her as he sang the chorus for the last time.

_Don't need to be afraid_

_No need to be alone_

_It's real love, yeah it's real,_

_It's real love, it's real,_

_Yes, it's real love, it's real…_

He loved her. Despite everything, he loved her. She knew that now.

So she listened, full of hope and happiness and sadness. In the back of her mind, her analytical side had already switched on, full of ideas. If they were going to get him home, and if she was going to go with him, she had plans to make.

* * *

**A/N: **

**YAY for John not pulling a "Maggie" and running away! And yay for Maggie being the most AWESOME Mary Sue ever! Hmmm, I supposed we are biased...**

**This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	21. Chapter Nineteen

**YES IT IS**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

And in the end...

**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen**

"Where to next?" Maggie asked John as they stood on the famous Mall that made up the tourist section of Washington D.C. Other than one trip to the Air & Space Museum, Maggie hadn't had a lot of time to show John around, since she'd been busy with work, but she wanted to show John all of her favorite museums while the two of them were still in 2006. Maggie didn't know when they would be here again. Besides, John hadn't had the chance to really explore the Museums on the Mall since 1964 – and things had changed a great deal since then. They visited all of Maggie's favorite places: the Museum of Natural Science to admire the Hope Diamond and gaze at the dinosaurs; the American History Museum to peer at Kermit the Frog, Dorothy's Ruby Slippers and Jerry Seinfeld's "puffy shirt". (Maggie had made sure John had watched the Seinfeld episode to prepare him. John had very much enjoyed the program and they'd had a marathon of that on DVD.)

John looked closely at Maggie, whose eyes were twinkling like she had a secret she just couldn't keep any longer. "What are you hiding, luv?" John asked bending his head down to her eye level and examining her in mock suspicion. "You know something you're not telling me."

"I have no idea what you mean," she said archly. "Let's go to the National Portrait Gallery – don't you think it will be fun to hear me tell you about all 43 of our American presidents?" John groaned, but let her drag him along, as she marched forward with purpose.

There were several special exhibits at the museum, but she made sure to take him through the gallery of US Presidents first, which was as much fun as she thought it would be with John. She mock lectured and he mock misbehaved, and they finished just before they got in trouble. They were making their way up to the 2nd floor of the gallery, chatting about the giant Woolly Mammoth they'd seen in the Natural History Museum, when he suddenly froze. Maggie knew he'd seen the sign for the special exhibit. The one she'd really brought him here for.

The sign showed four young men in bathrobes having a pillow fight, big grins plastered across their faces. John walked up to the photo and reached up as if to touch it. Then he turned and looked at her. "This is why you brought me here?"

"Surprise!" she said nervously. "I hope it's okay. I saw an ad for the exhibit. I… didn't know if it would be hard for you to look at the photos, or if it would make you happy to see them. Or if…" she couldn't finish the sentence.

John kissed her on the forehead. "Don't be daft. Of course it's okay," he said lightly. "You may know the US Presidents, but I know a thing or two about the Beatles. Very talented they were. Don't know about the haircuts though."

Maggie nodded wordlessly, but couldn't help smiling up at him. They walked into the exhibit room together, gathering strength by twining their fingers together tightly.

Harry Benson was a photojournalist who had captured much of the 1960s – and he'd also had unprecedented access to the Beatles during many of their most private moments. The photos of the Beatles shone brightly, telling the viewers of the lives of the four lads from Liverpool. There was a photo of John and Paul composing _She Loves You_, another view of the four of them pillow fighting in France after they found out that that _I Want to Hold Your Hand_ was number one in the US, one of them pretending to be punched by Muhammad Ali. This one made John and Maggie both giggle, because of a funny but dirty icon they'd seen online that had used this photo.

John remembered each and every one of these moments that were captured on film and nostalgic smiles colored his lips at certain ones as he recalled the stories behind them. His grip on Maggie's hand only tightened as he shared with her what was happening right before a certain picture was snapped, what they were doing that day, that month. What they were feeling. Maggie smiled, finding this to be better than the best Beatle biography. John's voice and words gave away more than any book ever could.

The last wall of the exhibit held only one lone photo. It was one neither had seen before.

Paul stood before them, captured in black and white, nearly larger than life. He stared at the camera sadly, the mischief that always seemed to light his eyes dying before the lens.

John swallowed thickly, taking a step back, but not being able to pull himself away from the picture. A strange emotion was beginning to build in both of them, coursing through their veins like poison. John felt his hand clenching and unclenching over Maggie's, felt his stomach knot, and felt his heart begin to race. The feeling was mutual, but Maggie was the first to recognize it.

Guilt.

"I have to find a way to get you back." Maggie whispered. "I told Paul that I wouldn't ever take you from him, and that's just what I've done. You and Paul need to be together as much as you and I need to be together…" Suddenly realization hit her. She knew why they hadn't been able to get back before. John hadn't wanted to go back before and she couldn't get them back because she had nothing to go back for. The person she loved and longed for was right here, standing next to her. But John needed Paul…and John loved Paul too…

"You have to do it," she said.

"What?" John asked, clearly confused.

"I can't get us back, I have the person I want right here with me. But you, you can do it. You could go back. You care about Paul. You love him. You could go back."

"I do not love him! I'm not a poof, I don't care what they say on the internet!"

Maggie smiled at that. "I never said you were…though the internet does make some pretty good arguments for it… fueled in part by you, I might add."

John stared at Paul's portrait, rarely having ever seen that haunted look in his eyes. The few times he had, John had been able to make it disappear with a joke or a smile. This time though, he hadn't been there to chase the demons away.

"Well, I'd hate to let down the good people on those Beatle forums," he said with a small smile. "If we go back, do I have to shag Paul, or is writing ambiguous lyrics with him enough, do you think?"

Maggie laughed, knowing how much John had actually enjoyed reading all the threads dissecting Beatles song lyrics and quotes and photos of the two of them touching. John had even signed up for his own account, and had had a great time making up his own theories about Paul and himself. He had even tried to convince them of reasons why he had disappeared, alien abduction being the one he favored the most. Shaking her head, Maggie moved closer to him, knowing that he was still feeling a sense of guilt rushing through him. They would both feel it until they could make it right with Paul.

"I think ambiguous lyrics would be great – maybe you could steal Paul's original idea and your first solo album could have a photo of two beetles screwing hidden in the artwork somewhere…"

"I will miss Photoshop." John said wistfully, having to turn away from the photo before him. "And I won't ever get to see the comments that my latest crackpot theory generated…"

"I know," Maggie said. "But I think your vacation from Beatlemania is about done. Besides, it will all be here in forty years, waiting for us. Technically we could actually create that forum and you could be a moderator and ban anyone who doesn't think Yesterday was the best song you ever wrote. And you heard Paul's most recent single on the radio, he needs your help, and badly…" Yet even as she teased him, she recalled the horrible fates that awaited the other three Beatles and knew that there was no way she would let him stay another day in 2006.

"Paul did write some really mediocre music without me…"

Maggie shook her head, knowing just how much he was down playing his feelings at the moment.

"This is it; I think this is our chance to get you back home. I was able to change the future when I went back with you – now it's time for you to change the past, to go back where you belong. To put things right." Looking him in the eye, she smiled brightly. "You owe the world more Beatle albums, and I don't want to be the one who cheated them out of a few more years of Beatle music." _Or maybe more if I can get you guys to communicate with each other. The future isn't written in stone, right?_ Maggie thought to herself.

Looking back at the picture of Paul for a minute, John felt the excitement grow inside him. "I can teach them everything I learned in the future about 'team building' and 'group hugs' and 'sensitivity training'!" he mocked.

"Group hugs, eh? Let's make sure someone takes pics for the internet to dissect in the future!"

John wanted to smile at that, but felt his face grow serious instead. "You are coming back with me, right?" She nodded solemnly in response, not breaking eye contact. "Are you sure about this?" John asked quietly. "Giving everything up? Dealing with everything being a Beatle's girl entails?"

"I'll go back with you, and stay for good," she said, without hesitation. "Besides, you said it yourself. If you can't stay here, and we can't live without each other, there is only one solution; I've got to go back with you. My apartment, and everything in it will still be waiting for me the next time we're in 2006. I can take care of everything then." She thought for a minute about time travel paradoxes. "We'll have to make sure we don't run into ourselves today though." She looked around hastily, as if to see if 60-year-old versions of themselves were lurking behind the potted plants, watching them.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want…" Pulling him into a kiss, Maggie silenced him. She knew she didn't have to do this. But she wanted to. She was more certain about this then she'd ever been about anything in her life. She was a 21st century woman and she would find a way to carve out a place for herself in the 60s. This would be a chance for her to be a pioneer. She was up for the challenge, she knew she was.

"I want to go back with you," she said, her lips brushing against his once more. "Before, when I left, well, I just had to be sure is all."

Pulling her to him, John swallowed. As he rested his head against her shoulder, the scent of her hair swirling around him, he tried to keep his voice steady. "Sure of what?"

"Sure of you. Of us."

"And you are now?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer to that. He knew she would be leaving her career for him. While that might have been standard in his time, he knew it wasn't for her and she would never be happy being a traditional wife.

Maggie could feel his insecurity and knew that it was a demon she would have to wrestle with for the rest of their lives together. But she was willing to do it if he was.

Smiling in answer, she pulled his head down for another kiss, feeling him give into her, threading his fingers through her hair. When they finally broke apart, John gave her a blinding smile, one that went straight to her heart.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, Maggie turned them towards the picture. Clasping their hands tightly, Maggie stared at John, and John stared at Paul's sad face, concentrating on his eyes and the pain held within. They thought of Paul, wanting to be where Paul was more than anything. Maggie just hoped that it would be enough.

Their vision grew black as the world around them swirled out of place. Colors bled into each other, mixing together to become one giant mass. Maggie held onto John's hand tighter, concentrating on his face, wishing to go back to the very day they disappeared. As the world began to tilt, they were forced to close their eyes for a second, trying to regain their balance. And while John fully expected to be greeted with Paul's sorrowful eyes once more as he opened his eyes, he was instead greeted with Paul, standing in front of him, dog leash in his hand and Martha tugging him in the other direction.

Before either Maggie or John could think, both of them launched themselves at Paul, whoops of joy sounding through the air.

Paul's eyes grew wide as they hugged him tightly jumping up and down. "What's all this then? Have you missed me since last night?" he laughed, looking at the two of them and silently wondering what they were on. The stuff they smoked last night wasn't that strong. In fact, as he recalled, Maggie hadn't smoked any of it. Of course he'd been pretty far gone himself…

Looking at Paul, John began to leer, unable to stop himself. Paul frowned, cocking his head to the side and looked at John quietly. His eyes soon widened though as John jumped forward, planting both hands firmly on either of his cheeks and laying a kiss right on him.

Paul pushed John away quickly, stumbling backwards and wiping at his mouth. Martha's leash was forgotten as it dropped to the ground and the dog went romping off somewhere to get into trouble. Paul couldn't worry about it right now though as he wiped at his lips comically, spitting on the ground.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" he shouted. John only reached for him again.

Moving quickly, Paul ran to hide behind Maggie, his hands on her shoulders, using her as a barrier between him and his friend. Maggie didn't even seem to notice it though; she was more concerned with figuring out how long they had been gone.

"Last night?" she asked, craning her head to look at a frightened Paul. "We saw you last night?

Narrowing his eyes, Paul looked at Maggie, trying to figure out what was going on with the two of them. "At Donovan's, remember? What is wrong with you two?" He lurched to the side as John ran towards him once more with outstretched arms. "That must have been some strong stuff you two had…"

Watching as Paul backed away from the two of them, John stopped his advances and instead placed his arms fondly around Maggie. "Must have been," John said with a slight grin. "Because I've just come back from one strange trip!" Maggie rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't help smiling. Reaching down, John kissed her firmly on the cheek before turning back to Paul, who was still cowering slightly as he stared at the two of them in confusion. "Which reminds me, I have this idea for a song about something I read in the news, though the news was rather sad…"

Straightening up, Paul looked at John, taking a few steps towards him. "Really?" John laughed. He loved how at the mention of a song, Paul would perk up immediately. "I've got loads of ideas for our next album too!" said Paul. "How do you feel about satin band uniforms?"

Looping his arm with Maggie's, John nodded at Paul, getting him to continue. Within minutes, Paul was spouting off idea after idea, his hands waving vigorously in the air to try and make his point. Maggie squeezed John's arm, and then let the two of them go off together, while she went and retrieved Martha.

She knew she had made the right decision.

**Epilogue**

Entwined in each other's arms the next morning, snuggling in bed as they half dozed, John and Maggie watched as the sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting rays of light on their bare skin. Maggie smiled lazily at this, curling closer to John as she thought about everything that was about to happen.

She knew she was going to be busy. She had to create a new, watertight identity, and get a job, not to mention deal with the upcoming events that she already knew were about to happen, thanks to the numerous biographies she'd read. There were so many dangers in the band's future – heroin, assassins, cancer, gold diggers, and Magic Alex, only to name a few. Either way, she knew she would have her hands full keeping all the Beatles from harm and protecting them from themselves. She was even considering taking an accounting class. She was good with numbers and the Beatles could use someone to keep track of their money, other then Alan Klein, who would ultimately just walk away with it all. She might even force the Beatles to sit in on a few private lessons on wise investment. Those boys could use a dose of common sense and applied mathematics.

Maggie sighed at that. She needed to remember to make a visit to Brian Epstein. Maybe she could save him, warn him of what would happen and convince him that he really was needed.

While she knew in her heart that she wouldn't be able to stop every bad thing from happening, especially since with every change she caused, she would change the future she knew, and new problems would crop up. It wouldn't stop her from trying though. It never would. She would protect these boys until the very end.

Most importantly though, she would get to be with John, the love of her life. She knew they had a rocky road ahead, but she also knew that no relationship was easy or perfect, and that John was worth it. He was beyond worth it.

Turning, she looked at him as he slumbered peacefully. Reaching out, she ran her fingers across his brow, feeling him stir a little under her gentle touch.

"Marry me," he murmured, hugging her close to him.

And so Maggie, having thought about everything that question entailed, responded without hesitation.

"Yes."

**The End**

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**A/N: **

**And so ends Maggie Sue's little time travel adventure... or is it really just the beginning?**

**Please read our "Yes It Is: Stories" to find out what happens next to Maggie Sue, John, and the rest! We'll be adding them one at a time just like we've been doing with the chapters. There are 8 of them. :-)**

**Please let us know how you liked this story! We love comments and reviews!  
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	22. Yes It Is Stories 1: LennonMcCartney

**YES IT IS Stories: Lennon/McCartney**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

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August 1966**

The streets were noisy and the people obnoxious. It appeared that no matter what decade it was, New York was still loud and full of a certain caliber of life that you were hard-pressed to find anywhere else. With a ticket clutched between her fingers, Maggie stood at the edge of a sidewalk, smiling broadly, and trying to remain calm. The few bounces that escaped her here and there couldn't be helped though. She couldn't stay still. The excitement was coursing through her once more, just as it had done every day for the past few months.

Sticking out her hand, Maggie rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet as she hailed a cab. "Taxi!" It was one of the main things she missed about New York. While she always had access to a car service if she needed one now that she was with John, there was just something about being in a New York cab that brought back memories.

Slipping inside, she smiled at the driver. "Shea Stadium please."

A snort could be heard coming from the driver's general direction as he shook his head. "Let me guess. You're going to see the Beatles."

Maggie smiled. "Of course." The ticket proudly proclaiming her entrance to the concert sat in her hand, the corner of it resting against the ruby ring she wore. While she loved diamonds, John had told her they were too American and for that, Maggie had laughed and agreed to the red stone instead. It was gorgeous and while she would always love her diamonds, she couldn't see herself wearing anything different. The ruby was unique for John and her.

Both she and John considered it her engagement ring, even though she wore it on her right hand instead of her left. She didn't dare wear it on her left just yet. The engagement wasn't official, and while the people closest to them knew, or at least had guessed by now, it wasn't something that Maggie or John were ready to announce to the world. Maggie simply dating John was problem enough. She wasn't exactly looking forward to what the fans would do once they got word of the American Girlfriend becoming the American Fiance.

Looking out the window, she watched as familiar buildings rushed by. They were a little newer, a little cleaner and painted with less graffiti then she remembered, but they were still buildings from her youth. The youth that, in all reality, was only ten years or so away. She was passing places where she used to play, areas that she had shared summer ice cream cones with family and friends, and Maggie even shuddered as she passed a particular area where she had ended up tripping and skinning her knee when she was seven. It had left a scar that she still had.

Shaking her head, Maggie leaned back into her seat. The fact that she was from the future and that while she was getting older, her original self would be born in about a decade, never ceased to confuse her. It sometimes even threw her when an event happened that she remembered reading about, but had never actually experienced. As someone who had given up a job at NASA to stay in the past, she had to admit she was very excited to have a chance to watch the first moon landing, which would happen three years from now. To be thrust into a past that she had studied meticulously was more than a little mind-altering at moments. When things became too frazzled though, she would look at John and remember why she was here. She could deal with the confusion as long as he was willing to deal with her occasional headaches over it. Although at the moment, she wasn't the one that was having the headaches.

The tour had been miserable this year and while there was always some level of negativity involved in every tour they took, this one had been exceptionally worse. The "Beatles being bigger than Jesus" remark had hit the newspapers before the tour had started and while Maggie had known it was coming, she hadn't been able to do anything to stop it in the first place. John's remark had been made during an interview that had taken place between her visits to the past, so she'd been unable to warn him to watch his words.

Frankly, she wasn't sure he would have listened to her anyway. John hated having to be careful about what he said. He'd never liked being coached by Brian – and in fact had purposely scared him a few times. The most memorable being during that concert where the Queen was in attendance. Maggie wished she'd been there for that one. She'd heard Brian had almost had a heart attack when John had started into his infamous line about the rich people rattling their jewelry along to "Twist and Shout". It had gotten a good laugh, so it was all right that time. John and the others were naturally clever and funny, and were used to being able to get away saying what they wanted. Because of this, he'd never expected that offhand "bigger than Jesus" remark to blow up in his face months after the interview like a time bomb. It had blindsided him, and he'd been deeply upset by it. That was the thing about John, he had a hard exterior, but his insides were soft and sensitive, and it sometimes surprised Maggie how easily he was wounded. Maggie wished she could have better prepared John for the onslaught of negativity – or prevented it altogether.

And then John had left to go on tour. He called her frequently, which had at first delighted her. She trusted him to be faithful, but she also knew how tours were, and how much temptation there would be. She was aware of how much she had given up to stay here with John, and she loved that she was on his mind while he was away. But the calls started to worry her by their amount and frequency. She could tell how upset he was by how often he called. If John wasn't calling her as frequently, it meant things were going well. When his phone calls came almost every hour though, she knew that it was a particularly bad day, not just for him, but for everyone involved with the tour. One particular phone call had nearly sent her to tears a few weeks ago.

It had been late at night when John called her and she was just settling into bed. The phone rang and she knew who it was instinctively. As she answered the phone, she tried to keep her voice light, knowing that it would have a calming affect on John. Nothing was going to soothe him tonight though and Maggie just sat and listened as he vented the frustrations he had to her. It was at the end of that phone call, when he had paused for more than a minute, letting a comfortable silence flow between them, that he finally said something that Maggie knew he had been working up to asking her for the past week.

"Come out here."

"What?"

"Come join us on the tour, luv."

Maggie had the undeniable urge to get out of bed, pack a bag and immediately go to his side. She'd been so torn about the tour from the very beginning.

Wives and girlfriends did not go on tour.

Being a 21st century kind of girl, she'd really wanted to go, if only to snap her fingers at the sexist 1960's conventions, but she'd also been afraid that she would be in the way. She was always conscious of how closely she might be compared with Yoko. If none of the other Beatles had girlfriends or wives along, she didn't want to be the only one, intruding where she was unwanted. Still, she felt she was missing out on seeing the Beatles perform.

"I can't, John. You know I can't."

She trusted John. But at the same time, she couldn't help but think about how smart Linda had been, or was going to be, with Paul. By not letting him out of her sight, going on tour with him, AND being in his band, she had ensured that he would never slip up, or ever be lonely. While it may have seemed slightly possessive, it had only strengthened their relationship. The truth was Paul and Linda has simply adored being together all the time. Or rather, they would.

Why couldn't she have the same thing with John?

Maggie couldn't help but think that by letting him go off on his own on these tours, she was being foolish. She knew his history and knew that he was doomed to repeat it over and over in his life. She wanted to show him that she trusted him though and part of her also wanted, and hoped, that she was enough for him. She didn't know if she was right for not jumping at the opportunity to go out there, but she had to stick to her resolve.

Another small part of her wasn't sure she would like life on tour, and wasn't sure how well she would deal with it. Her excuses mostly seemed selfless, but she wondered if she weren't also being a bit selfish.

She had ended the phone conversation that night with her resolve firmly intact, at least in John's eyes. It wasn't until last night that the offer came once more.

Brian had called yesterday evening and avoided the small talk that she thought would come, instead jumping straight to the point. He told her flat out that the tour was going badly, a point that she was well aware of, and that John was simply not himself. He was not participating in the after-show parties and while she knew this worried Brian, it was mostly a relief to her. Whatever relief she had been feeling was short lived though, as Brian continued to explain himself.

John was depressed and instead of socializing like he had usually done, he was locking himself in his room, binging on both uppers and alcohol every night. There were efforts on all of their parts to go and talk him down, but they had all failed. John had simply turned them all away with a few choice words and then the silent treatment. Not even Paul could get him to come out of his room unless it was time to perform. Normally, Brian wouldn't worry except that John's depression had made him spiteful, hateful, and mean towards everyone else, which in turn made an already stressful tour even worse. Brian was afraid the Boys wouldn't ever want to tour again if this kept up.

Without further discussion, Brian had booked Maggie a flight direct to New York for the next morning, and with the time change, etc, she would arrive just in time to catch the Shea Stadium concert and would remain on the tour through the last show at Candlestick Park. The best part was that John didn't know about it so she would get to surprise him.

Maggie was, of course, delighted by this turn of events. She could go join him after all, since she had been asked by Brian, and it was for the sake of the tour. She wouldn't be intruding, since they all apparently wanted her there, and she would get the chance to see her fiancé actually being a Beatle.

The realist in Maggie was both worried about John and feeling guilty. The worries came for the obvious reasons of his alcohol abuse, and his anti-social, depressed behavior. The guilt on the other hand was a little more complex. It came about for two reasons.

The first was because she knew he was acting this way because he was actually trying to keep his promise to her to not do the harder drugs, and to not fool around. The only way he knew how to do that was to get drunk out of his mind and pass out in his bed, alone. The second reason was because she was secretly pleased that he was trying so hard to keep his promises to her. She was touched, and had decided that if he could do that for her, the least she could do was deal with the hell, trials, and drama that entailed going on tour with The Beatles. Even if it got her branded as a Yoko.

Lost in her thoughts, Maggie didn't even notice when the cab finally pulled up to the Stadium until the cabbie turned around and announced their arrival. Stepping out of the cab, Maggie was greeted with the deafening chorus of, "We want The Beatles! We want The Beatles." She couldn't help but feel bad for the support acts.

Making her way through the crowd, Maggie went in search for her seat. She had been adamant with Brian that she wanted to watch the show from the crowd with the rest of the fans. Brian, of course hadn't thought it was a good idea, but Maggie had held firm. She only thanked God that the 1960s lacked the aggressive paparazzi and internet of her own time. No one expected her to be here and therefore, no pictures would be snapped and beamed all over the world with a click of a button. It was because of this that she also knew she wouldn't be recognized. People in England might know her somewhat, but in America, she was just another face in the crowd. Still, just in case, she wore sunglasses, and fixed her hair in a ponytail so she'd look young and different from the pictures of her that had shown up in the fan magazines so far.

Finding her aisle, Maggie began to weave her way through jittery girls as she slid down the row, trying not to bump anyone as she struggled to get past them to her seat. Aside from a few nasty looks, she made it there unscathed, sat down, and looked around, taking in her surroundings.

Girls, and some boys, surrounded her, all on their feet and calling for The Beatles. Looking around, Maggie noticed that minus one exception, no one else was sitting down. This exception came in the form of her neighbor, a young woman that had her head tilted away from Maggie's. Long, elegant fingers were wrapped around a camera and a curtain of blond hair obscured the side of her face as she snapped some photos of the crowd. Seeming satisfied with her shots, she lowered the camera and bent over to adjust the lens. Maggie eyed the expensive camera appreciatively; she had an interest in photography, but since the advent of digital, had guiltily abandoned her film camera.

Noticing Maggie's interest, the woman brushed her hair behind her ears and yelled over the crowd, "I usually photograph horses, but I've been taking more pictures of musicians lately, and now their crowds." Finally looking at Maggie, the woman smiled wryly.

Feeling her eyes widen, Maggie sat thunderstruck. She barely even noticed the din around them anymore, as her eyes traveled over the features of the woman before her. She was completely focused on the fact that Linda McCartney was in front of her. Or rather, Linda Eastman. Maggie recalled reading that Linda had once gone to Shea Stadium to see The Beatles, and had originally had the hots for John before she met Paul. What were the odds that she'd be at THIS Shea stadium concert, and that Maggie would get a seat next to her? But then what were the odds that Maggie could travel back in time just by staring at a photo of John Lennon?

Instead of questioning it, Maggie accepted it with a smile and held out her hand. "Hello," she said, projecting her voice over the sound of screaming thirteen year olds. "I'm Maggie, nice to meet you."

Placing her hand in Maggie's, Linda turned more towards her. "Linda See… I mean Eastman," she corrected. "My divorce was final a year ago and I still say See!" Linda immediately clamped her mouth shut and turned red from embarrassment, as if she'd said too much. Maggie had forgotten that divorce was still very taboo in the 60's.

Wanting to put her at ease, Maggie made sure she looked unfazed. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure that he's lost a wonderful woman."

Linda relaxed visibly, smiling at Maggie slightly. "He was an interesting man," she laughed, feeling oddly comfortable telling Maggie her secrets. "In short, we got married, had our daughter Heather in '62 and then he just went off to Africa without even discussing it with me, expecting Heather and I to follow. There had been a million of other little things before this, but that was the last straw. So I asked for a divorce," she said with a shrug. "And he gave me one." Maggie held her tongue, just letting Linda talk, all the while trying not to pinch herself over the fact that she was sitting there and talking to Paul's future wife. "It ended quite amicably, all things considered. I have full custody of Heather and my ex and I are still on good terms. It's kind of hard not to be, in all honesty. He's a really nice man, a geologist, an Ernest Hemingway type."

Maggie laughed. "That always helps."

Settling back in her chair and scooting closer to Maggie so they didn't have to strain to hear each other, both Linda and Maggie settled into an easy conversation.

"So, where are you from?"

"DC, but I'm originally from New York."

"Me too!" Linda said, obviously excited at seeing another true New Yorker.

Maggie had to bite her lip in order to keep from saying that she already knew. It was a strange feeling being around a woman who Maggie knew was destined to enter the Beatles Wives Club and one that was going to change Paul's life forever. Maggie had always admired and respected Linda and to be sitting next to her at a Beatles concert no less, was surreal.

"I love New York," Linda said. "I've lived a few places in my life but nothing beats the New York."

"I know what you mean. It's just one of those places. You can't really describe it to anyone that hasn't lived here before." From behind them, two girls started shrieking as they saw what they thought was the Beatles. It turned out to be just another sound technician, but the two girls were nearly fainting at the prospect of seeing the four men that sang in their dreams nightly.

Turning to look at them a little, Linda shook her head. "Alright, so I have to ask. Why are you here?"

Maggie gave a nervous laugh as her mind began to race. There was only so much she could reveal right now and while she knew that Linda would be in their future, she still couldn't take the chance that saying something wrong now might prevent her from being with Paul. Her hesitancy didn't go unnoticed by Linda who added, cheerfully, "I'm under here under the guise of photography," Linda said, raising the camera just slightly to make her point. "But truth be told," she grinned wickedly at Maggie. "I think John is hot."

Maggie burst into laughter. She of course knew that Linda was originally attracted to John but she couldn't help but tease her a little. "A John fan, huh? I would have taken you for a Paul girl."

Linda shrugged. "He's all right. I mean, he's cute and all, and I'm sure he's a really nice guy, but John? John's the kind of guy that you could have those deep, intellectual conversations with." A small smirk spread across Linda's lips as she said this. "That among other things."

Maggie blushed and Linda teased, "I hear that the 'other things' are quite good with him."

Maggie blushed again and Linda laughed and said, "It's a shame that I'll never know if the rumors are true," Linda sighed semi-dramatically. "It's just as well I suppose. I mean, after all, I've learned from experience that men are always much better in theory than they actually are."

Maggie smiled as she anticipated the day when Linda learned the truth of who Maggie actually was and how this story was most likely going to be one she used to tease Paul with in the future. Maggie had a feeling that it would be the source of many jokes from both Linda and her. Sitting here right now, Maggie could already tell that the two of them were going to be good friends. They were both American (New Yorkers at that), both interested in photography and both had, at least for now, a fancy for John.

Maggie was also impressed by Linda's forward thinking. For a woman in today's society… or the society of 1960's… time was still a little jumbled in Maggie's head. But, for whatever society they were in at the current moment, the things Linda said and did were not only frowned upon, but often times, unheard of. The fact that she asked for a divorce instead of staying in loveless relationship was proof of that. Most of all though, Linda was going to marry the other half of her Lennon and therefore, she would be the only one that knew what it was like to be in Maggie's shoes. That alone formed an instant bond that Linda was not aware of yet, but was still there.

"How about you," Linda asked. "I've told you the sordid details of my love life and my lusty thoughts about a certain Beatle. Do you have anyone in your life?"

Maggie felt her throat tighten. Of course this was the question that had to come up. She swore that someone out there was taking great amusement in watching her fidget today. "Well," she started. She didn't want to lie to this woman but she didn't know what she could tell her. It wasn't that she thought Linda would react badly to the truth… well, maybe that was a little bit of it. She was afraid that Linda wouldn't believe her but she was also afraid of the commotion it could cause if someone overheard her. Maggie opted for telling as much as the truth as she possibly could.

"I do actually." She smiled, holding up her ring. "I just got engaged."

Linda's mouth turned up into a genuine smile. "Congratulations. He's a lucky guy."

"Thank you."

"What's his name?"

Maggie swallowed. "Winston." She marveled at how clear and unwavering her voice was when she said it. Then, she silently thanked whoever was listening for the fact that Linda obviously didn't pay attention to the teeny bopper fan magazines our there.

"And what does your Winston do for a living?"

"Oh, he's an writer." It was true. John had written a book or two and writing lyrics to music could also be considered a sort of thing an author would do.

"An writer, huh? Another one of those Ernest Hemingway types?" Linda grinned. "What does he look like? That way, if I see him or take his picture one of these days, I can tell him that I got seated next to the only other normal girl here."

Maggie laughed once more, finding Linda's good nature to be infectious. "Well," she started, really not knowing what else to say, but figuring she might as well go for it. "He looks like a Beatle, really. Then again, what mod guy doesn't these days?"

Linda nodded in agreement. During this time period, it was true.

"Where's he from then? Is he a New Yorker as well?"

Maggie opened her mouth to respond but the sound of screaming cut her off again. This time though, it wasn't a false alarm and instead of technicians running out to check the stage equipment, four mop tops came out, waving and flashy their smiles at an audience filled with frantic girls. Girls that Maggie normally would have mocked, except this time, things seemed different.

Before it even registered to her what she was doing, Maggie was on her feet, screaming her head off in full fangirl fashion. When she looked to her right though, she noticed Linda was acting the same way, and while she still felt like an idiot, she at least knew that she was in good company.

Maggie honestly couldn't say when exactly the concert began. She assumed it was when the boys started strumming their guitars and bopping their heads, but she couldn't actually hear the first chords. Sometimes, if she listened close enough, she could hear the faint beat of Ringo's drum, and she knew that if it weren't for him, none of them would be holding it together up there.

Despite the fact that she was at a musical concert, and that Maggie wasn't actually hearing any of the music, it was still the best concert she had ever been to. Watching Paul giggle and twirl with his bass and watching John and George horse around, laughing through most of their backing vocals, was surreal and it made an odd sense of excitement ignite in her stomach once more.

As John started playing the keyboard with his elbows, throwing his head back and laughing with a sort of manic delight, Maggie leaned over towards Linda. "Remember that move," she shouted over the screams and the cries of the girls surrounding them. "You may need it one day!" Linda frowned slightly, raising a confused brow towards Maggie. Maggie just shook her head and laughed, "Trust me!"

Turning back to the concert, Maggie could barely believe what she was witnessing. Every day (that wasn't during a tour) she woke up next to John and she had started to get used to it. She still had her moments where she was afraid that she was merely dreaming, but things were starting to become a little more normal to her. Seeing them up on stage though, at Shea Stadium, the future Mrs. McCartney sitting next to her, was unreal and Maggie almost didn't believe that it was happening. She watched as George and John laughed together, so unbelievably happy (even though it was temporary and that after the show John would be thinking about anesthetizing himself again) and she knew that it couldn't be anything but real. This was a golden moment. They were hovering near the point where they would decide they were tired of being Beatles – but there was still enjoyment in it for them. Their love of music and performing hadn't quite left yet.

Thirty minutes later the show came to an end and while it was nothing compared to the length of the concerts that she attended in her own time, it was by far the best concert she had seen and the one that was the most unforgettable.

The Beatles were whisked away before Maggie could even blink and it almost gave her a start. She needed to catch John before he began his nightly diet of pills and booze. Hopefully, if she found him quick enough, the smile she had seen on his face moments before would stay there.

Digging in her purse, Maggie found a pen and a small piece of paper. As legibly as possible, she scribbled her mailing address and phone number on it before turning to Linda, knowing that the UK contact info would give her away. She had to smile as she saw Linda scrawling down her contact info, obviously having the same thought she did.

Smiling, the message clear to both women, they exchanged papers and Maggie knew she had a new penpal. She did have to fight the sigh that threatened to escape from her lips at the thought of having to do this all long hand. She really did long for her lap top. Or a cell phone.

Leaning forward at the same time, both girls hugged each other goodbye. Their short minutes spent talking about practically nothing before the concert had bonded them for life and Maggie couldn't wait until Linda became a permanent fixture in their lifestyle.

"I want to hear all about how Heather is growing up and how your photos are coming along," Maggie said as they pulled away.

Linda nodded. "And I want to hear all about how the wedding plans are coming and how the fans react to your engagement to Winston. He is my favorite, you know!"

Maggie's eyes widened in shock as her shoulders stiffened.

"I wouldn't be a very good fan if I didn't recognize the American girlfriend, now would I?" Linda smirked and said conspiratorially. Leaning forward, she looked at Maggie seriously. "You'd better go; now that The Boys are gone, and the fans recover themselves, you're sure to be recognized and mobbed. "

Maggie hadn't even thought of that but as soon as Linda said it, she recognized the wisdom of her words – she'd been lucky. She was only anonymous by 21st century standards. And Beatle fans could be vicious to Beatle girlfriends. Pattie had told her stories of being accosted in ladies rooms.

Nodding quickly, she gave Linda another quick hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "I promise I'll write." Pulling away, she grinned a little bit, a thought coming to her head. "You know, John might be taken, but maybe if things don't work out for Paul and Jane…" It was Linda's turn to look shocked. Oh, if only the woman knew what her future had in store for her.

Smiling at her, Maggie gave her a small wave and began to push her way through the crowd. She had already paid the taxi handsomely to wait for her outside and to take her to the hotel. Before she even knew it, she was off. Off to see John.

Her John.

Maggie smiled.

_HER_ John.

* * *

**A/N: **

**WOW!!! How unbelievable was that?! The future Mrs. Lennon meeting the future Mrs. McCartney at a Beatles concert (ie, Lennon/McCartney, the story title... I know, bad). :) Probably about as believable as time travel, which makes it perfect for this story. :) YAY!**

**SO, now that Maggie Sue has made friends with Linda, we leave it to you to ponder on how this may affect things in the future. !**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	23. Yes It Is Stories 2: A Comedy of Errors

**YES IT IS Stories: A Comedy of Errors**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

August 1966, directly following the events of Lennon/McCartney**

Maggie watched NYC pass by the window of her taxi. It was so exciting to be back. The city meant much to her and she felt like she was seeing it as she'd never really seen it before. Her NYC was in 2006 – but this…this was NYC in 1966. She felt like a person out of time, detached almost – passively observing as the scientist she was. Except that now this was her world. She'd made her choice to stay in 1966 after she'd managed to travel backwards in time and somehow end up engaged to a Beatle. The whole thing sounded like a bad fanfic and yet, oddly, it worked. And while she knew she was wrecking all sorts of havoc with the timeline, she also knew that John was the love of her life. They wouldn't have been happy apart.

So here she was, back in the US for the first time since she'd moved both to 1966 and to England to be with John. She'd attended the Beatle's Shea Stadium concert and by sheer, unbelievable coincidence, had ended up seated next to the future Linda McCartney. Or maybe it was fate, Maggie thought to herself. Maybe it's a sign that she wasn't making a horrible mistake by being here. Maybe Linda and she were meant to meet, and meant to become friends. Maybe she could save Linda from cancer and maybe their friendship could help hold John and Paul together. Maybe her life was a really bad Beatles Mary Sue fanfic. Too many maybes.

Now Maggie was on the way to John's hotel. John hadn't yet been told that she was coming – she'd wanted to surprise him. Brian had already arranged for her things to be taken to the hotel so she wouldn't have to haul them all the way to the show, and then back to the hotel. She'd also insisted on taking a cab by herself, turning down a hired car. She didn't want to attract attention, and besides, this was her city - she knew her way around! Maggie was just grateful it was pre-internet – it was much easier to blend without some internet site reporting your every move, or paparazzi on every corner. She was sure no one would recognize her.

"Hey, miss, where do you want me to drop you?" The cab driver interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Smiling at him, Maggie gave him the address of the hotel, telling him the front door was fine.

"I've been dropping passengers off there all night," he said, shaking his head. "The Beatles are staying there, and they all think they're going to get in somehow. Is that what you're up to?"

Maggie gave him a coy smile, but stayed silent. If only he knew. She laughed along with the cabbie, at how ridiculous that was, before sneaking a glance at the ruby engagement ring on her right hand.

The cab pulled up to front of the hotel, the outside of which was swarming with throngs of screaming teenage girls. Maggie watched with wide eyes as girls fainted and shrieked; she would have to make her way through them to get to the front door.

As she got out of the cab, Maggie couldn't help but feel slightly stunned. She knew what Beatlemania was and how crazy their fans were, but books and movies had not prepared her for this. Maggie turned back towards the direction of the cab, intent on asking him to take her to a pay phone where she could try to get a hold of Brian, but the cab was already gone. Not that she could blame the cab driver. The screams were enough to drive anyone away.

Maggie suddenly felt very alone and suddenly realized she might have some trouble getting to John. With no luggage, no escort, and no British accent, she really didn't look that much different from any of the other female fans in attendance. She might have been a few years older, but with her hair back, she looked young for her age and could have easily been mistaken for one of them.

With a deep breath, Maggie pushed her way through the crowd of girls and into the lobby. Boldly, she walked up the counter where she was greeted by a harried-looking desk clerk.

"Can I help you?" the clerk asked, obviously annoyed by the entire situation.

"Yes, I need to check into my room." Maggie responded, nicely, with a smile on her face. This guy could be a jerk, she didn't care, she was going to be seeing her John very shortly.

Hopefully.

The clerk's eyebrows raised and he took her in fully; no luggage, and a girl checking into a hotel alone, in 1966? "I bet you do," he responded sneeringly, "And I supposed you'd like a room on the same floor as the Beatles, too."

"Well, no," Maggie said slowly, having a bad feeling that there was no way the clerk would believe what she was about to say, "I'm in the same suite as the Beatles – they're expecting me." She forced herself to be polite to the sneering clerk, even if it felt forced. If this was what she had to do though to see John, she would do it.

"I'm sure they are, Miss." As the clerk began to turn away, Maggie grabbed at his arm.

"Can you at least look in your reservations to see if my name is there? It's Margaret Susan…." . She was pleading – she wanted to see John so badly that she wasn't above begging at this point.

"I'm sure it won't be, Miss," he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. All night he had been dealing with the same type of girl, and all night he'd had to fend them off, explaining to each and every one of them that they were getting no further. He didn't understand what the attraction was. The objects of their affection were simply four boys with long hair. "Look, you're clearly a fan trying to get a peep at the band, just like the rest of them out there. You don't even have any luggage."

"But it was sent ahead for me from the airport!" Maggie said, getting exasperated now.

"Right, why would you do that?" He was growing tired of this game and he was going to call security on her soon.

"Because I went to The Beatles' concert." Maggie knew what her story sounded like. The truth even sounded crazy to her own ears. There was nothing else she could say that would make this any better though.

"Aha. Ok, so let me get this straight, you just flew in from…"

"England." As the words came out of her mouth, Maggie winced. The man was now giving her a condescending look as he leaned back against the counter, smirking at her.

"England, right. You, with your American accent, flew in from England, had your luggage sent to the hotel, went to The Beatles' concert, and now are here to check into your room, which you are sharing with the Beatles."

"Look," Maggie said with a sigh. "If you could just call up Brian Epstein – I'm his guest and he's expecting me." The anger was boiling under her skin. She was irritated that this man was keeping her from John, and she was even more irritated with that fact that he thought her to be nothing more than a foolish child.

"I've seen the guests Mr. Epstein gets and I don't think you're his type, girlie." This man was losing all remnants of politeness and fast. "Now, please leave, or I will call security on you and have you escorted off the premises."

At that moment, Maggie lost it. Before she could stop herself, she grabbed at the clerk's tie with her left hand and pulled his startled form half way over the counter. Then she waved her right hand under his nose and said, "Look you small-minded, male-chauvinist idiot, I'm John Lennon's fiance, Brian Epstein flew me out from England to surprise him, and you'd better get me up to my room before I make a real scene."

The clerk blinked at her, the red glint from the ruby shiny before his eyes. The woman before him breathed harshly, the hand holding his tie shaking. Gently, he removed her left hand from his tie, staring pointedly at her right hand. "A ruby ring on the wrong hand?" he commented. "What, Mr. Lennon couldn't afford a diamond?" He pushed her away slightly, looking at her with disgust as he straightened his tie. He did have to admit that this was one of the crazier fans that he had met tonight, what with her clear delusions of grandeur. "Besides, John Lennon isn't engaged, it'd be all over the papers wouldn't it?"

Reaching for the phone, he began to call security. Before he touched the receiver, and before Maggie could retort that John and she hadn't officially announced their engagement yet, a loud commotion erupted behind them. The screaming increased by several decibels as the Beatles themselves were swept into the hotel.

As soon as Maggie laid eyes on John, all thoughts of punching the clerk in his smug nose (which might have been her next step) disappeared and Maggie started yelling and waving at John, desperate to get his attention. Of course, with the noise and crowd levels, John didn't see or hear her and as quick as they arrived, the Beatles were gone.

Maggie, realizing that any shred of credibility that she wasn't just a random fan had just evaporated, slowly turned to the desk clerk who, with a knowing sneer, beckoned a bellhop over. "Please escort _Mrs. Lennon_ outside with the rest of the fans, where she belongs. If she tries to get in again, have her arrested for trespassing." Maggie, not wanting to end up in jail (what if her fake documents didn't hold up to that kind of scrutiny?) resignedly walked off with the bellhop, determined to formulate another plan.

The bellhop had taken her out a side door, probably afraid that as he let one crazy out, he'd accidentally let 10 more in. He was about to turn away when Maggie had an idea. She grabbed his arm and said, "I'll give $100 right now if you give me your uniform and go home for the rest of the day."

Paul stared at John's closed door in frustration. He'd been knocking steadily for five minutes now, and he knew that John wasn't far enough gone to not hear him. In short, John was just being, well, John.

"Look John," Paul yelled with a final bang. "I know you're in there, so you can just stop pretending that you're not sitting in your room all alone, getting pissed and mooning over a girl! I'm coming in." When there was no response, Paul took that as his cue. Cracking open the door he peered carefully inside. Seconds later, a glass shattered above him, the shards crashing over his head, along with the brandy that had been in it. Quickly, Paul pulled the door shut, trying to avoid any further damage.

"Now look, you've got to stop this, John! I've something important to tell you!" Paul snarled through the crack in the door. He hated when John decided to wallow in one of his difficult moods.

After a few moments of silence, Paul took that as an invitation to enter the dark room. "There, that's bet-" Paul suddenly dove for the floor, as another glass sailed by, grazing the top of his shoulder.

"Look, you stupid wanker, you'd better stop breaking all your glasses or there will be none left for Maggie to use when she gets here!" Paul yelled.

The lights came bursting on, and Paul, momentarily blinded by them, peered from around the bed he'd taken cover behind. He saw John standing by the light switch with a third glass in his hand.

"What did you say?" John breathed, barely daring to hope. He lowered the glass slightly, and squinted his eyes at Paul, as if to help him decipher real meaning of the words Paul had just said.

Paul took the time to stand gracefully up, dust himself off, check his hair in the mirror, and look at John out of the corner of his eyes. "Oh, so now you want to listen to me instead of taking my head off with a bloody glass."

In a flash, John covered the ground between them and was inches from Paul's face, "Don't play with me, Macca, I'm not in the mood. I've been trying to ring Maggie up and I'm getting no answer."

"That's because she's probably out with Mick," Paul teased. John's arm raised once more as he threatened to hurl another glass at Paul. Quickly, Paul stuck his hands in the air, taking a step back and trying not to laugh. "I'm only joking! It's what I've been trying to tell you, mate…. she's here!"

John lowered his glass again, and a confused look came on his face. "What do you mean she's here?"

"Just what I said! Brian flew her out here to finish the tour with us and she's just watched the show, and she should be arriving at the hotel any minute now!"

It sank in slowly for him. Paul watched as the realization fell over his friend's features, his eyes lighting up, which was something he hadn't seen since this miserable tour had begun. Suddenly John grabbed Paul by the cheeks and kissed him full on the lips. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" John whooped. He released a very shocked Paul and ran out of the room.

Blinking, Paul stared at the now wide open door. "John, wait!" He knew he should have probably approached this differently, already knowing John's tendencies towards the extreme, but it was too late now. "You can't go chasing after her; you'd get torn to pieces by the fans. Mal's just gone down to meet her in the lobby and bring her up."

John stopped short. Giving a quick glance to his watch, he debated whether to ignore Paul or not. The lad had a point, but this was also Maggie they were talking about. He was going to give it thirty minutes and then he would be down there himself.

Without a word, John headed back to his room where he proceeded to pace excitedly. Paul only rolled his eyes, and settled in on the couch.

John was so predictable. While he was happy for John, and he and Maggie had an understanding now, he just couldn't understand John's need to always be with her. Paul would be mortified if he had his old lady on tour with him! Thankfully, Maggie seemed to understand what the boundary lines in The Beatles were, and never crossed them. Though she often pushed them. At least pushed more than Paul was comfortable with.

She'd been downright docile about staying home from the tour though. Brian had pretty much had to force her to come out for the rest of this tour, and frankly, Paul was actually glad she was coming. John was barely tolerable to be around and he was making an already miserable tour worse. Why couldn't he just relax and enjoy the birds like they used to? George was married and he wasn't all puritanical on tour, and John hadn't been when he was with Cyn either. No one was married on tour! No one! He'd never expected this sort of behavior from John of all people.

Paul looked over at John who was currently rubbing his hands together with almost a manic glee of anticipation. Paul shook his head and thought to himself, "Be that dependant on a bird? No thank you!"

Mal walked up to the counter of the desk in the hotel lobby. The clerk had been leaning on the counter, seemingly bored now that the excitement of the Beatles arrival was done. He straightened up, however, recognizing Mal as part of The Beatles' entourage. Mal was, after all, hard to forget.

"Can I help you, Sir?" he asked ingratiatingly, beaming a smile up at the much taller man.

"Yes, I'm here to pick up one of Mr. Lennon's personal guests, and her luggage." Mal informed him genially.

"Her luggage sir?" The clerk asked, his smile faltering. This was not going to end well.

"Yes, she just flew in from England and wanted to take in the show before coming to the hotel, so she sent her luggage on ahead."

The clerk swallowed. "Her name, Sir?" His smile was gone at this point, and panic was starting to grow in its place. Darting his eyes back and forth in the lobby he began desperately searching for said woman, hoping that she wasn't who he feared she would be.

"Margaret Susan..." Stopping in the middle of his sentence, Mal looked over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the clerk was searching for. "Are you all right?"

The clerk's mouth was opening and closing wordlessly as he realized what he had done. Mal bent lower to peer closer at him and waved a hand in front of his eyes "Hullo?" he asked, "Has Maggie Sue been here?"

A cold sweat broke over the man's face and while he knew there was a desk between him and the roadie, he also knew that it wouldn't be enough distance to protect him once he admitted to Mal that he had had Mr. Lennon's fiancé forceably ejected from the hotel. Taking a deep breath, he tried to gain the courage to face his end and with a rush, spilled out the story of what had happened. Mal grew taller and loomed larger over him with every word.

"YOU DID WHAT????!!!!" Mal thundered at him, drawing every eye in the lobby as he momentarily drowned out the shrieking girls outside.

Cowering behind the desk, the clerk swallowed. "I'll find her. I'll bring her back."

"YOU'D BETTER!" Mal bellowed at him, "OR I'LL NOT ONLY HAVE YOUR JOB, BUT YOUR ARSE TOO!"

Twitching, the clerk started to move but then stopped, as if he was going to ask Mal a question.

"GO!" Mal boomed, and the clerk ran off grabbing a bellhop on the way to help him.

Maggie strode boldly down the hallway of the 12th floor of the hotel trying to act like she belonged there. Well, the truth was she did belong there, if only that arrogant clerk could have gotten over himself and looked up her name! But still, she knew that her lame disguise wouldn't hold up under much scrutiny. To begin with, the Bell Hop she'd bribed for his uniform was about four inches taller than her and much bigger, so she was swimming in the uniform, and constantly tripping on the baggy trouser legs. And the Beatle Wig (barely covering the wisps of her long hair that kept slipping out of it) and fake mustache she'd purchased outside at the corner drugstore weren't that convincing either. Still, she had managed to make it this far… which was actually a lot further then she thought she would.

If only she could figure out what floor the Boys were on! She was getting very tired, since she'd huffed and puffed her way up 12 flights of stairs in order to avoid the elevators during her search. Knowing her luck they'd be near the top floor of the hotel!

Leaning against the wall, Maggie sighed. Clearly they were not on this floor. There was no media room for them to answer asinine questions over and over again to reporters, no loud music, no permeating smell of pot, and no parties filled with groupies spilling over into the hallway. Definitely the wrong floor.

Shaking her head, she thought to herself how crazy and pointless this whole thing was. Having finally caught her breath, Maggie turned, intent on leaving. Before she got more than a few steps, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Hey, you there!" Maggie froze, trying to decide if she should run for it.. "Hey, could you give me a hand with this?" Turning slowly, Maggie swallowed. She didn't know if it was done in relief or fear. Another bellhop stood before her, overloaded with so much luggage he couldn't really see. He motioned towards a massive vase of flowers on the floor that had apparently just fallen off his luggage cart. Maggie, staying as silent as possible, obligingly picked up the vase and followed him towards the elevators. Silently she prayed that they were going up, not down, and that she could get away with not talking to the other bellhop.

As they walked into the elevator, Maggie peered through the fronds of the enormous flower arrangement and saw him press the button for floor number 24. A wide smile spread across her lips. Up it was! Relaxing slightly, Maggie pulled her head back, peering at the arrangement before her. She smiled, smelling its sweet fragrance. As she was basked in the aroma, content with the knowledge that she might actually get away with her facade, she idly noticed the card. It wasn't anything special, nothing more than a standard little complimentary card that was stuck with most arrangements. The name on the card however, was what caught her eye.

_Miss Margaret Susan _

Maggie blinked. Could it be??? Were things finally going her way? Was she actually delivering flowers addressed to HERSELF to HER own room? This was fantastic! This was wonderful, this was-

"Hey! Are you new?" asked the other bell hop, peering at her around the luggage on his cart. Maggie had to force herself not to laugh as she continued to stare at the bellhop who was bogged down with what she realized was _her_ luggage. There was a lot of it. She really needed to pack less. Looking closer at her as she tried to hide behind her flowers he frowned, "I don't think I've seen you before."

Maggie smiled nervously at him and was about to attempt a masculine sounding reply when the elevator doors opened again and in strode her nemesis.

The desk clerk.

John's pacing was growing more agitated when Mal finally opened the door to the room. Rushing forward and expecting Maggie's smile to greet him, John was disapointed only to find Mal.

Paul walked by, listening to Mal try to explain what had happened. Knowing John though, it wasn't going to cut it. In desperation, Paul started looking for cover in case John started throwing glasses again.

"Bollocks to this, I'm going to go find her." John declared, once he'd heard Mal's story.

"John – the fans are down there. They'll tear you apart. They look like they want blood," Mal protested. "It sounds like the gates of hell down there."

For a second Paul thought John was going to give in to the reality of the situation. John's shoulders had sagged as he began to walk back and forth again and Paul was certain that the storm had passed. Or at least they were in the eye of it. Standing from his crouched position behind the sofa, Paul looked around. He wanted a drink, but there weren't any glasses left. His eyes settled on the bottle of rum however, and he had just decided that he would settle for a swig out of it, when John suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"I'm going to go find her."

"John…" Paul started, but it was too late – John was out the door already.

With a groan, Paul rushed passed Mal, chasing after his friend. "Where are you going, you wanker? And wait for me; someone's got to keep you out of trouble." Paul jumped into the elevator that John had raced into, barely clearing the closing doors. Turning, Paul narrowed his eyes. "You realize they're going to eat us alive down there."

"Don't worry, son," John grinned at him, and jabbed a few buttons. "I've got a plan."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

As the elevator closed and started to move, they heard a faint ding signaling that another elevator had just stopped at their floor.

Maggie breathed a sigh of relief as the desk clerk got off their elevator one floor after he'd gotten onto it. He'd barely looked at her – he'd seemed completely pre-occupied and was still obviously looking for someone. Maggie wondered, from the frantic look on his face, if it was for herself. She wasn't inclined to make his search any easier, however. Not after the way he treated her. Fortunately, the other bell hop hadn't taken up his interrogation of her again, and seemed content to keep quiet for the remainder of their ride. The elevator signaled its arrival at the 24th floor with a faint ding.

She followed the bellhop a short way down the hall to a door on the left. The bellhop, still laden with her luggage, gestured for her to knock on a door, which was immediately opened by Mal. She was so happy to see him that she nearly kissed him. Until she remembered she was still dressed like a man.

Mal motioned the bellhop with the luggage towards John's room. Maggie entered and set the vase down on the table.

"Flowers, eh?" he looked at the card attached to the vase. "And from the hotel, no less. I dunno if that will make it up to poor Maggie. You tell your boss it's going to take a lot more then that to make things right!"

Maggie pulled off her mustache and wig, shook her hair out, and said, "I don't know, Mal. I think they are kind of pretty."

Mal looked shocked for a moment while he processed this new information. Then, laughing, he swooped down, picked her up, and twirled her around. "Don't ever do that to us again! I thought John was going to kill me!"

Maggie was giggling with glee, she was so happy to be there and so close to John! "It wasn't my fault – that miserable clerk had me escorted out of the hotel!" As Mal set her down, Maggie began searching the room for her fiance. "Where is John?" She peered into the bedroom, where the other bellhop, who had overheard everything, was still standing with the luggage and a shocked look on his face. She waggled her fingers at him, feeling impish and pleased with herself. She'd managed to get into The Beatles' room in 1966… quite a feat!

Still beaming from her moment of gloating, she turned to look at Mal. His smile however, had fallen. "Well, you kind of, er, that is to say, he just left… to look for you…"

"WHAT!?" Maggie cried. Without a second though, she tore the door of the suite open and looked frantically up and down the hallway. "Where did he go?" she demanded.

"Downstairs I think. To the lobby? Look, maybe you should just wait here until he gets back…." But his advice fell on deaf ears. Maggie was already jogging down the hall, tripping on her too long uniform trousers, with her long hair hanging down her back.

"No." Paul said flatly. "I'm not going."

"Come on. Quit acting like a girl!" John goaded.

Paul looked at John pointedly, and then down at his own attire.

"Oh, right," John said, clearly enjoying this. "I'd forgotten."

"Look, I just don't see why I have to wear a maid's uniform is all. It's not going to fool anyone." Paul whined, plucking at his apron. The thing wasn't even flattering.

John chuckled at his friend's distress. Reaching out, he patted Paul on the cheek, "That long hair, those pouty lips, and most importantly, those mile-long eyelashes… I'm surprised anyone thinks you are a man, Macca."

"I haven't gotten any complaints from the birds on this tour," Paul grumbled.

"Besides," John continued, holding up a hand to forestall any further argument, "There was only one bellhop uniform in this cupboard, and no one forced you to come along."

"Fine." Paul sighed and looked resigned. If anyone found out he could just say that he was drunk. God, he wished he were drunk. Why did John have to break all the glasses?

John cracked the door of the 14th floor broom cupboard they had changed in, and, seeing the coast was clear, he and Paul walked out into the hallway. "Hey!" a voice called from behind them. It was the desk clerk from downstairs.

He eyed John and Paul suspiciously, not recognizing either of them. John had run out of his room in such a hurry, he still had his glasses on – which he hardly ever wore in public. Banking on John's disguise, and not really wanting to show himself off in this get-up, Paul stepped behind John.

"What were you two doing in that closet?"

"Oh, nothing, sir," John said, in his best American accent, which was, frankly, quite terrible. "Me and …Paulina were just polishing my, er, the broomstick handle ." He couldn't resist winking. Paul jabbed him in the back, feeling on a minor sense of satisfaction at the small grunt of pain that came out of John's mouth. "You don't want to lose your grip on the handle when you're sweeping the floor with it, you know."

'Paulina' choked a bit, as John's face twitched again.

The clerk eyed them both suspiciously, clearly convinced that they had been fooling around .

"Well, the hotel simply won't stand for this kind of behavior, and if I catch you again, I will report you." The clerk looked like he wanted to report them now, but clearly he was impatient to be on his way. He seemed like he was looking for something – or someone. _It had bloody well better be Maggie,_ John thought.

"Oh, we would never," John swore. "We polished that broomstick down to a nub," John said solemnly. Paul choked again. Slightly mollified, but too panicked to find Maggie Sue to really care, the clerk sent Paul to go clean a room down the hall, and John downstairs to get some luggage.

The clerk forced himself to stay and watch that the maid and the bellhop went where he directed them, before rushing off. After all, standards were important. If you let them go, all hell could break lose.

Forced to separate under the clerk's watchful eye, John headed down the stairs.

He walked boldly through the crowd of girls that had managed to force their way into the lobby, grinning with glee at not being recognized. He felt a bit invincible. He had never believed that Clark Kent could fool anyone by wearing glasses – but now he wondered if Superman had been on to something. However, this was short-lived. When John reached the other side of the pack of girls safely, he managed to trip over a bag on the floor, causing his glasses to slip. A young girl bent down to pick them up and handed them to him.

"Thanks, luv." The words were out before he could stop himself.

Bad idea. Apparently, he'd forgotten that it wasn't only his face that was recognizable.

The girl took one look at his face without the glasses, and realizing this bellhop had a Liverpool accent, she shrieked and lunged for him, causing all the girls behind him to do the same.

John felt like he was back in A Hard Day's Night – he took off running, with the pack of them chasing him. Rounding a corner, John managed to dart into a broom cupboard, and close it before any of the girls had seen where he had gone. He heard the shrieks and screams go past his hiding place.

He shuddered. The sound of the gates of hell, indeed.

Maggie made it onto the first floor via the stairs without being stopped, though she was utterly exhausted. She slumped back against a door, trying to catch her breath, only to have it fall open. What could have only been yet another disaster turned into something more as the surprised desk clerk caught her, breaking her fall.

Maggie's eyes widened as she and the clerk locked eyes. They stared at each other in bewilderment for a minute, until Maggie came to her senses. She was not going to be kicked out of this hotel again – not until she had found her fiance.

Scrambling out of his arms, Maggie bolted, racing down the hall towards the lobby with the clerk hot on her tail.

"Stop her!" The clerk yelled at anyone that would listen, giving Maggie the much-needed incentive to just run faster.

Sweat broke out on her forehead as she frantically searched her mind for something to get her out of this situation. There had to be some logical way to do this. She knew she could outsmart everyone here, if only she was allowed a moment to think. Unfortunately, in the solution she was creating in her head, the one she was sure would keep her out of the custody of the clerk, she had forgotten one minor detail.

As she rounded the corner, a pack of screaming teenage girls came running towards her.

The fear of getting trampled overwhelmed her and on instinct alone, Maggie flattened herself against the wall and hoped for the best. The girls, focused on their prey, took no notice of her, however, and just ran right by. They would slow up the clerk for a moment, but Maggie knew she didn't have much time. Looking around for the nearest escape, Maggie spied a nearby broom closet. Without thinking, she dove inside.

The screaming faded away as Maggie was engulfed in the darkness of the closet. She had to smile a little, despite the situation. After all, the clerk now had over a dozen, screaming, teenage girls to deal with.

A noise from behind her interrupted her thoughts.

"Who's there?" she demanded as she whirled around bringing her hands up in a karate stance. Not that she knew any karate, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Silence greeted her but after a minute…

"Maggie?"

A shiver of recognition (oh, that accent) and joy ran from the top of Maggie's head to her fingertips and toes, and she literally flung herself into the direction of that voice and started peppering John with kisses, giggling madly.

After a stunned second John wrapped his arms around her tightly, and proceeded to let her know just how pleased he was to see her too.

"You know, in all the times I imagined having you show up suddenly on the tour, this is NOT what I pictured." John mused while running his fingers through Maggie's long, dark hair as they sat snuggling on the floor of the broom cupboard. Neither of them had any idea how long they'd been in there, nor did they care; it was just so nice to be together again. It had been far too long.

"Oh really? What was different in your imagination?" Maggie asked, nuzzling his neck.

John kissed the top of her head and whispered, twitching his nose at her, "Midgets, there were more midgets involved."

Maggie burst into a fit of giggles yet again, which led to some playful wrestling and tickling, which led to kissing, which very nearly led to other things again, when Maggie, level-headed, broke away and said, "John, we really should go back. They've got to be worried about you."

John sighed. "You're right. I just… I dunno, I'm just tired of it all. I'm ready for a break, a change, anything. Mostly, I'm just tired of being away from you," he mumbled into her hair, breathing her scent in deeply. "I just…I don't want to tour anymore. I'm done. Beatle John wants to retire."

Maggie was very quiet for a moment, considering her next words carefully. "Well, let's just get through this tour, and we can talk some more about it. Maybe after it's over you could explore other things, take a break from music for a bit."

"Dick Lester did want me to help him out with his new movie. It might be a laugh."

Maggie's brain suddenly flashed to the future, remembering that it was that movie that started him wearing his famous round glasses. Iconic, one might call them. And here she was, snuggling in a broom closet with a living icon. It was all too much sometimes. It set her off giggling again. Yup, her life was like a bad fanfic, and she loved it.

John shook his head at her sudden giggling. Someday he'd figure her out, but not today. Thankfully he had years, decades even, to do that. "All right, luv, let's see if we can sneak upstairs without running into that pack of birds."

Reluctantly, they both got up, ready to brave their way back to the hotel room.

John opened the door first, peeking outside, hoping this was going to be a relatively painless task. Deciding that the coast was clear, he pulled Maggie Sue after him. "Come on, luv – we'd better stop on the 14th floor and make sure Paul isn't trapped there, with some burly American man trying to get into his knickers."

Maggie stopped. "What?"

"Didn't I tell you Paul had a thing for dressing up like a lady?" John grinned. "It's shameful, it is."

As John tugged her after him, Maggie laughed and gave up trying to make any sense of the conversation. She'd get the story out of Paul later. After all, they had all the time in the world.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Now that Maggie Sue & Mr. Lennon have found each other will they ever make it up to their room alive or will the fans tear them apart??? And more importantly WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO PAULIE IN DRAG???!!! Stay tuned to find out what happens next in the AMAZING AND TOTALLY BELIEVABLE TIME TRAVEL BEATLE ADVENTURES OF MAGGIE SUE, NASA SCIENTIST TIME TRAVELING ROCK STAR!!!!!111!**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	24. Yes It Is Stories 3: BFF

**YES IT IS Stories: BFF**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

Right before the Candlestick Park concert in San Francisco, 1966**

As Maggie lay on the hard concrete of the hotel room's balcony, her long dark hair splayed out around her head like a fan, she stared up into the dark San Francisco night sky and marveled at it all.

The cosmos, science, God, time travel, logic, family, friendship, marriage, music, The Beatles, and now, the man who was lying on the balcony next to her. Their feet pointed in opposite directions, but their heads were close together, which allowed his longish dark brown hair to mix with hers.

It was quiet, and Maggie liked that. She knew he liked it too. They'd been together like this, quietly staring up at the stars for three quarters of an hour, and it was nice. It was comfortable. It wasn't forced. It was the type of thing that only people who were very close could do, and Maggie smiled to herself when she realized, that despite the craziness of it all, the astronomical chances against it all, this mop-topped young man was very dear to her. Just as dear to her as she was to him.

He was her best friend, and possibly her closest confidant, and she was pretty sure that she was the same for him.

Maggie lifted her right hand to look at her engagement ring, marveling at the beauty and clarity of the red ruby up against the velvet black night sky. It put her in mind of Antares, the eye of Scorpio, or the red giant star, Betelgeuse – which burned steadily as Orion's shoulder.

A distinct Liverpudlian accent interrupted her musings and asked, "What would you say if I told you I loved you?"

Maggie laughed at him. "I'd say you were stoned. Speaking of, I'm not crazy about the second-hand smoke I'm getting over here. I think the wind just shifted." She made a move to get up.

Chuckling, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down so that her hand was resting on his chest. He made a valiant effort to fan the smoke away from her, spreading its wispy white essence into the night. Seeing his impish grin, Maggie relaxed, and knew that he was just teasing her. "I do love you, you know. But like a sister," he said.

Maggie smiled at him. "I know, and I love you too. Like a brother. A brother I never had. An annoying, yet loveable brother."

This amused him to no end. He laughed so hard, that he had to sit up to catch his breath. She rolled her eyes and wondered how Help! had gotten made at all, having now, first-hand, seen the effect the drug had on the boys. He draped a friendly arm over her shoulder, and she gave in and snuggled next to him to watch the stars again.

"But you are very pretty you know," he said grinning as he pressed a kiss into the top of her head.

"Stop trying to seduce me." Maggie teased back, "It feels like incest."

"What? Can't a man say a woman is attractive without it being a come-on?" Maggie gave him a pointed look, causing him to laugh again. "All right, all right. Let's just say, just for the sake of argument, that it was a come-on. What do you want me to do about it? I take it back, OK? I take it back." He grinned down at her.

"You can't take it back." Maggie retorted pulling away and mock glared at him, hands on her hips.

"Why not?"

"Because it's already out there," Maggie explained, feigning exasperation and waving her hands in the air to illustrate her point.

He let a worried look crossed his face and he started wringing his hands together in mock apology. "Oh, jeez. What are we supposed to do? Call the cops? It's already out there!" He teased, yelling the last bit out into the night sky.

At this point Maggie was giggling too. Perhaps it was a side effect of the pot smoke. She had given up trying to avoid being around it – that was nearly impossible. The Beatles loved the stuff and none of them saw the harm in having a joint now and then. And at parties – well, at parties, she was lucky if that's all they indulged in. She still didn't approve, but she'd had to unbend a bit. She sometimes felt bad being such a stick in the mud where drugs were concerned. But they just made her uncomfortable. It was just how she was raised. But the Beatles were grown men (though you wouldn't know it by their antics), and so long as they stayed away from the harder stuff, she would deal with it, much as she hated it. Her thoughts made her frown unintentionally.

Sensing a shift in her mood, he placed a loving arm around her and drew her closer to him, trying to offer comfort. "Don't worry, Maggie, I was only joking, we are just friends. You know that, right?"

Maggie instantly felt bad for bringing the mood down.

She never got to see him anymore, what with all the touring the Beatles were doing, and she hardly ever got any time alone with him. Now, here she was, ruining what few moments they had together.

She had to lighten the mood.

Putting another mockingly serious look on her face, she held his hand very tenderly, and gravely said, "You realize, of course, that we could never be friends."

He raised an eyebrow at that, "Why not?"

Maggie struggled to keep a straight face. "What I'm saying is — and this is not a come-on in any way, shape, or form — is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way."

He looked at her, blinking slowly as if trying to find the truth in this, before shaking his head once. "That's not true. I have a number of women friends and there is no sex involved," he retorted.

Maggie snorted and raised an eyebrow back at him, "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"You only think you do."

Exasperated, he said, "You're saying I'm having sex with these women without my knowledge?"

"No," Maggie clarified, "what I'm saying is they all _want_ to have sex with you. You're a Beatle, remember? And usually you oblige them, which is very naughty since you are a married man!"

He rolled his eyes and groaned, "Not this again."

"Yes, this again, George. I don't think it's very nice of you to do this to Pattie." Maggie said any tone of playfulness now gone from her voice. She dropped his hand, scooting away from him slightly. This was a conversation they had had over and over again and it never seemed to change.

"No one is married on tour, Maggie," George said, exasperated, and he proceeded to get up and lean against the railing. "You used to be fun." he muttered staring at the Golden Gate Bridge all lit up in the distance. Clearly he was losing his buzz.

Maggie frowned at that. Like the drug use, the flagrant cheating on the wives by George and Ringo bothered her too. But it was like talking to a brick wall sometimes. George was stubborn. George was, well, George. He had his neuroses just like the rest of them, and they were part of what made Maggie adore him so much.

And he was so fragile at times, always wondering if he was good enough. He was a Beatle for goodness sake, and he wasn't sure if he was good enough! Of course it didn't help that he was always comparing himself to John and Paul.

She hated to see him mopey like this, even if she knew he deserved it.

Sighing to herself she walked over to the railing and leaned against it too, casually bumping his arm with hers.

He ignored her.

Rolling her eyes, she bumped him again.

He pointedly stared straight ahead, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

Steeling herself, Maggie shoved herself into him as hard as she could, knocking them both on the floor, giggling again.

"So, still friends?" she managed to get out in-between giggles.

"No."

"Wha-"

"Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her." he said solemnly, trying to stifle his own giggles.

"So, you're saying that a man _can_ be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?"

"No, you pretty much want to nail 'em too."

"What if _they_ don't want to have sex with _you_?"

George looked at Maggie and raised an eyebrow as if to question her last statement. "Oh, right, Beatle. How could I forget?" Maggie muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Besides," George said, "you're the one who said men and women can't be friends in the first place, because the sex thing is already out there, so the friendship is ultimately doomed, and that is the end of the story."

"I NEVER SAID THAT!" Maggie said feigning indignance.

"Wha- wait, you just said it!"

"When?"

"Before…"

It was Maggie's turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "See, I told you smoking that stuff was bad for you. Look what it's done to your memory."

George looked at his joint horrified, and quickly flicked it over the railing into the night sky, only to turn and find Maggie grinning at him.

"Look, Mags, I've already given up cigarettes for you – you, with your scary knowledge of the future. You've got to leave me some vices!"

"Fine, fine," she said, ducking as he made a grab for her. "Now where were we? Oh, yes, that's right, men and women can't be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people, then they can... This is an amendment to the earlier rule. If the two people are in relationships, the pressure of possible involvement is lifted... That doesn't work either, because what happens then is, the person you're involved with can't understand why you need to be friends with the person you're just friends with. Like it means something is missing from the relationship and why do you have to go outside to get it? And when you say, 'No, no, no, no, it's not true, nothing is missing from the relationship,' the person you're involved with then accuses you of being secretly attracted to the person you're just friends with, which you probably are. I mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding, let's face it."

George just gaped at her.

She continued, "Added to the fact that, clearly, being in a relationship isn't enough to stop you sleeping around. Added to the fact that you are a Beatle. Which brings us back to the earlier rule before the amendment, which is men and women can't be friends. Or is it that Beatles and women can't be friends?"

George couldn't help laughing at that. "Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then," he said teasingly.

"Guess not. It's a shame, because you were my favorite Beatle." She said shaking her head sorrowfully. Maggie then looked at him curiously, watching as a lopsided grin appeared across his face, and he snaked his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. "That's a lie and you and I both know it. But thank you for the attempted ego boost anyway," he whispered in her ear.

Maggie smiled at this, and just hugged him back tighter. This was nice. A best friend in this timeline, who was, no less a Beatle! Who would have thought it possible? Despite all the teasing and jokes, Maggie knew they were dear friends. It was very freeing. She could say anything to him. It was different. It was a whole new perspective. She got the man's point of view. And the great thing was she didn't have to worry because she knew he wasn't always thinking about how to get her into bed.

She could just be herself.

No pressure, no rabid Beatle fans trying to assasinate her for stealing away their John, no awkward ex-wife/soon to be step-son relationship, no love/hate relationship with Paul, just a friend who appreciated her opinion and loved and accepted her, even when she nagged him about his bad habits. Not Beatle George, just George. Her George, in a way.

Maggie sighed pleasurably at this thought. Life was good.

Their idyllic embrace was interrupted suddenly by the sound of a throat clearing. "Excuse me, Mr. Harrison, but have seen seen my fiance?"

John stood in the doorway of the balcony, taking in the scene before him. With a raised eyebrow he looked at George and Maggie, still caught in an embrace.

"Ah, there she is." John remarked dryly, "Maggie, are you trying to get into Georgie's pants again? Isn't one Beatle enough for you? Or are you trying to collect the whole set?" he teased. "Ring's still around somewhere, shall I get him? You won't want Paulie, though. I've had him and he's no good." John finished the last with a wink and opened his arms to Maggie in a hug.

Quickly disengaging herself from George's lanky limbs, she hurled herself at John, and quickly silenced him with a long kiss hello.

"Ick. Get a room you two!" George made gagging sounds and pantomimed throwing up.

"We have one," John said around Maggie's attacking lips, "You're in it! Now bugger off, son!" And with that, John picked Maggie up, carried her back into the room, and dropped her on the bed. She watched, amused, as John swiftly escorted George out the door and then closed it behind him before turning back to face her a wicked grin spreading across his face.

George stood outside their room for a minute, staring at the closed door. "Disgusting display is what that was." George shook his head before he strolled back towards the room he was sharing with Ringo. Maybe Ringo would still be awake and up for pulling a few birds from the hotel bar.

But still, George smiled and chuckled to himself; a woman friend. Who would have thought it possible? Despite all the teasing and jokes, George knew they were dear friends. It was very freeing. He could say anything to her. It was different. It was a whole new perspective. He got the woman's point of view. And the great thing was he didn't have to lie because he wasn't always thinking about how to get her into bed.

He could just be himself.

No pressure, no Lennon/McCartney to compete with for album space, no Paul telling him how to play his guitar, just a friend who appreciated his music and loved and accepted him. Not Beatle George, just George. And God help John if he ever hurt her.

George entered his room to find a party already in full swing. He nodded at Ringo, who was telling jokes to a redhead and scanned the room, checking out his own prospects. A pretty blonde bird in the corner caught his eye, and he grinned back and went over to join her, pushing the thought of Maggie's disapproval towards the back of his mind. _No one is married on tour_, he reminded himself firmly. No one.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Maggie Sue and George Harrison are BFF! And John is totally NOT JELLUS!!! Isn't this the bestest Mary Sue Fanfic ever!???!!!! Absolutely believable. Just you wait, pretty soon Maggie Sue will be running Apple Corps! **

**And yes, this CLEARLY was a total homage to the film "When Harry met Sally"!**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	25. Yes It Is Stories 4: Mrs Lennon

**YES IT IS Stories: Mrs. Lennon**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

Directly following the 1966 Beatles Tour**

Maggie Sue waited, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She knocked lightly, but then, fearing no one would hear her, she knocked again with more force. This time the knock sounded way too loud. Shifting nervously, she was about ready to flee for the safety of the little car that John had bought for her. She glanced back at it and its relative safety longingly. The sight of the car soon made her smile. Of course George had insisted that her car be a Mini Cooper like his. Fraternal twins even in cars it seemed.

Looking back at the door, Maggie narrowed her eyes. It remained still, staring back at her in a way that Maggie was sure could be considered mockingly. Shaking her head, Maggie had just stepped backwards off the porch, all too ready to believe no one was home, when the door opened.

The former Mrs. Lennon was standing in front of her with a surprised look on her face. Cynthia recovered her smile quickly, though. She was nothing if not polite to the extreme. She'd had to be, to be married to John for as long as she had been, and dealing with all the rigors of being a Beatle wife. It came with the territory.

"Oh, hullo, Maggie. Come on in," she said cordially, if a bit formally.

Maggie took a surreptitious deep breath, and stepped inside. Cynthia's new home, the one she had purchased with her new husband, was much smaller than the mansion she'd lived in with John, and much cozier too. It suited her, and it was a good place for Julian to grow up.

"Here to visit Julian, are you?" Cynthia looked at Maggie, a bit wary, as if she were less than thrilled with the prospect. Not that Maggie could blame her. If she were Julian's mother she wouldn't want an endless parade of 'Daddy's Girlfriends' being introduced to him either. Hopefully today she could set Cyn's mind at ease at least in that regard.

"Yes, but I hoped to have a word with you first, if that's ok," Maggie said nervously.

She didn't know why she was nervous – ok, she felt a tiny bit of guilt for having kissed this woman's husband in 1964, but that was silly since John had done far worse with far more women than her. Besides, as difficult as it had been, and as strong a draw as John was, she'd put the breaks on early, envisioning Cynthia alone at home, resigned to her role as dutiful Beatle wife. There would be no affairs with married men as far as Maggie was concerned. Call her uptight, but she did have her standards. When she and John had gotten together, he'd already been divorced, so she couldn't be implicated in the breakup – though as it turned out, she'd been the direct cause of it. Not that she could explain any of this to Cyn. Maggie swallowed thickly. She started to feel guilty again.

Though Cyn had always been perfectly polite to her, she sensed that there was some underlying tension. Maggie suspected it was not only because she was John's new girlfriend, but because she and Julian had taken to each other right away. Of course Cynthia felt threatened. It was only natural. To make things worse, John, Maggie and Julian together made an attractive family unit. Because of this, Maggie wanted to be sure that Cynthia knew that Maggie had no intention of replacing her as Julian's mother.

It was important for Cynthia to know how much Maggie loved Julian, as well. Maggie made it a point to treat the kid with all the love she could muster. Yes, he was a part of John and that made her love him all on it's own, but he was also a truly unique little boy. One that was so full of life once you got to know him. Maggie needed Cynthia to know that Maggie loved Julian for who he was, and wouldn't turn her back on him when John wasn't looking.

Then, there was the matter of her engagement to John, which had still not been announced officially yet. More and more people in the inner circle had learned about it though, and Maggie was afraid it would leak to Cynthia before she and John had gotten a chance to talk to her in person. Also, she was nervous about Cynthia learning of the engagement since it had happened rather quickly. It had been April when she had first arrived in 1966, and John had asked her to marry him what seemed like a few weeks later. Of course, they'd really been together much longer than that – they'd first met in 1964 – and they'd had some time together in 2006. But to an outsider like Cynthia, it would seem sudden. Maggie also knew that the suddenness of it all would seem like a slap in the face to Cynthia; and it some ways it was. Maggie had to suppress a groan as another wave of guilt washed over her. There was no way to do this without someone being hurt, was there?

They'd intended to talk to Cynthia together, but things had been busy. For starters, John and Maggie had been house-hunting since they couldn't stay in Paul's spare flat forever. Though she missed their little love nest, the new house (soon to be mansion, if John had his way) was beautiful and she loved sharing it with John. All too soon tour rehearsals and planning had intervened and John had been swept off to Germany at the end of June.

After Germany followed Japan – and then the disaster in the Philippines. There'd been a short break and then the band had flown off to America for most of August. John had been back for a total of five days before he'd flown off to Spain to shoot Dick Lester's new film "How I Won the War". He hadn't wanted to go, because he'd only just gotten back from tour, and he was exhausted and had wanted nothing more than some quiet time with Maggie. But she knew that he was meant to do this film and had talked him into going. It would give him a break from being a Beatle and right now, a break was probably for the best. Maggie promised that once he'd gotten settled, she'd come out to stay with him, if he wanted her to. Which he did, of course. Neither of them wanted a repeat of the famous "glass hurling" incident. The current separation wasn't so bad because she'd spent the remainder of the American tour with John, and had thoroughly enjoyed watching him be a Beatle. Seeing Beatle concert after Beatle concert (after all you couldn't actually _**hear**_ them) was a dream come true for her. She smiled a bit at that.

Cynthia's voice brought her jarringly back to the present. "Would you like some tea?"

"What? Oh, yes, that would be great, thanks," Maggie said a moment too late, while fidgeting with her hands. She didn't know what to do with them, and now it felt like there was a rather large elephant in the room.

Cynthia led her into the kitchen where Julian was sprawled on the floor, coloring. He looked up and when he saw Maggie, jumped up, raced over, and threw his arms around her. Instinctively, she hugged him back, but when she looked up from him, she saw Cynthia's face tighten. Turning away, Cynthia adjusted the tea kettle on the stove, but Maggie had already seen her expression.

Julian tucked his soft, warm little hand into her own and led her to the table to sit. Despite Julian's constant chatter, the silence in the room screamed as Maggie sunk down into a kitchen chair. Cynthia stared at the tea kettle, trying to busy herself, prolonging the silence between her and Maggie for lack of something to say. Maggie looked at her sadly, only turning away at the sound of running feet as Julian went to get his coloring book. Returning, he climbed up on the chair next to her to show her his drawings.

Julian was such a solemn child, but he was laughing more and more now. Since meeting him, Maggie had watched the relationship between him and John bloom as Julian began to warm up to his father. Since she had warned John about his future strained relationship with Julian, John tried so hard, and it was only rarely now that he lost his patience with the child, and then only when Julian was being naughty.

Secretly, Maggie was happy to see Julian feeling comfortable enough around John to actually BE naughty. He had been unnaturally quiet and careful around John at first, afraid of John's unpredictable moods, but once he saw that John seemed to have learned patience and had developed an interest in him, Julian had started behaving like a normal little boy. Julian didn't seem to question John's sudden interest or change of heart, and after a few months, he'd lost his wariness entirely.

Seeing them together warmed Maggie's heart and it made her decide that if she'd accomplished nothing else in the past, saving John and Julian's relationship made her decision to stay completely worthwhile.

Her own relationship with Julian was progressing as well. She'd been cautious at first, not wanting Julian to think she was trying to replace Cynthia, but Julian had taken to her quickly and they were soon fast friends. Julian hadn't really questioned her relationship with John, and seemed happy enough to have her as a new playmate.

So Maggie built block towers and colored with him – and sometimes they'd bring Julian over to Paul's so that Julian could play with Martha, who was gentle for such a big dog. They'd had a lovely early summer until John had had to leave for his tour. Even with all the tour preparations, he'd made sure to make time for Julian. They'd had him over to stay every other weekend, and had also had him over occasionally during the week.

At first Cynthia had been suspicious, then wary, and then thrilled that John was finally taking a real interest in his son. How could she help it when Julian was finally so happy to be around his father?

Cynthia set two cups of tea on the table. "Julian, why don't you run and play upstairs and leave Maggie and I to chat?" she asked the boy. It was clear on the child's face that Julian wasn't happy to go. But slowly, he shuffled his way to the stairs, where he gave a last hopeful look at the two of them. Cynthia shook her head and pointed upwards and with a small pout on his face, Julian went upstairs.

"He really likes you, you know," Cynthia said. "I'm really glad, but at the same time…"

"You're wondering how long I'll be around and whether Julian will be crushed when John and I break up?" Maggie finished for her.

"Was I that obvious?" Cynthia laughed, still a little tense.

"It's a valid concern," Maggie said. Taking a deep breath, Maggie leaned forward, ready to take the plunge. "Which is part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. John and I had hoped to do it together, but with the tour and the film and well, everything, he's hardly been home…"

"Yes, the tour, don't I know how those go." Cynthia said ruefully.

"Yes, of course, you must." Maggie said feeling a bit chagrined. How could she forget that Cynthia knew better then she did just how busy John typically was? She continued a bit more carefully this time. "I really hoped to have John here too, but he agreed with me that it was better for me to talk to you alone than for you to find out from someone else…" Maggie stole herself, and took another deep breath before the words flew out, "I know it seems fast, but we're engaged."

Cynthia looked at her for a moment, her face becoming an unreadable mask. At her unblinking gaze, Maggie found that she had to look away, only able to raise her eyes again at Cynthia's notice. Slowly, Cynthia sipped her tea before setting it down, and absentmindedly scratching at a fleck of dust on her skirt said simply, "I see."

The silence in the room was as loud as a thunderbolt, and finally Maggie, unable to stand it, spoke yet again, "I hope to have some sort of place in Julian's life, perhaps as one of his Aunties?" She looked at Cynthia hopefully and seeing her staring determinedly into her teacup continued, "I would never dream of trying to replace you, but I did want you to know how much I love Julian, and well, I guess I just sort of wanted your blessing."

A small, incredulous laugh escaped from her throat. "For you and John? You hardly need it. He's seen plenty of women without my blessing." Cynthia was bitter. Again, Maggie really couldn't blame her.

Clutching her tea cup, Maggie tried to think how best to phrase her answer. "I meant for me and Julian, actually. I want John to stay a part of his life, and I want to be a part of his life. But I just wanted to reassure you that I know he's still your son, and that I would never, COULD never come between that relationship."

Silenced reigned yet again. Every sound became more apparent - the tick of the clock, the shallow breathes escaping from Maggie's throat, the distant noise of Julian playing.... and just when Maggie thought she'd go mad, Cynthia slowly responded. "It's hard seeing him with you, I can't lie. But I also can't deny that John's relationship with him has completely changed over the last few months, and I can only assume that's due to you."

Relief coursed through Maggie. Perhaps Cyn didn't hate her? "I don't want credit; I just knew that he had a hard time relating with Julian. Let's just say I could envision a future where he and John were estranged and that I knew John would regret that for the rest of his life if that was to come to pass."

"Psychic now, are we?" Cynthia said wryly, taking another sip of tea, and relaxing a bit into the conversation.

"No, just a Beatle fan who's read one too many bios," Maggie said lightly. At least it was the truth.

Cynthia smiled at that. "How much have you read about John's many infidelities? Or did he tell you about them himself?" Maggie leaned back. She certainly wasn't pulling any punches. "It's not all sunshine and roses when you're with a Beatle, you know."

"I know." Maggie whispered. Looking at her honestly, she felt some of the anxiety leave. "Honestly, I think John was terrible to you, and I'm really sorry for what he put you through. I think he has changed though – or is trying to. Just look at the progress he's made with Julian." Maggie said hopefully.

"It's not easy for a man to change though, especially not a man like John." Cynthia said sadly, staring at her tea again.

"I know that too. And I don't expect life as a Beatle wife to be easy. I really don't." Maggie responded. "In fact, I'd almost rather he weren't a Beatle. Or weren't so much a part of the Swinging London. I don't really feel like I fit in that scene at all."

Cynthia relaxed again, the tension in her shoulders starting to fade. "Neither did I, though heaven knows I tried. I wore the trendy clothes and tried to make John proud to have me by his side – but look at me. I can't compete with the models and bohemian artists in their crowd. Let alone the other rockers – Mick wouldn't leave me alone! I think he liked the idea of scoring with John's shy, little wife!"

Maggie looked temporarily shocked, "Did you….?"

"Oh, no, no – I knew it was about John and not about me." She said quickly. A small smirk touched her lips though. "Not that I didn't consider it. But John would have been furious. There's a double standard you know – John can sleep with whomever he pleases, but if I'd slept with Mick and he'd found out? I can only imagine." Cynthia realized that they'd already been over John's infidelities and tried to lighten things. "I assume Mick has already come on you?"

"The first time I met him, he tried to get me to ditch John and go off with him! And John was standing right there! Which means, of course, that you're right – it was about John and not me." Maggie giggled. Cynthia giggled too, the terrible thickness of the room lifting almost at once. "Maybe Mick is just jealous," Maggie joked.

"Of John or of us?" Cynthia laughed. It was a good sound, and one Maggie knew she could hear often if they continued to talk. Despite the awkward situation they were in, she and Cynthia might manage a friendship after all.

It would be hard though.

She really did like Cynthia, and as a geeky science nerd in her own time, she knew a thing or two about not fitting in with the cool kids. But she also knew an uncomfortable amount about how John had treated Cynthia. How was she supposed to reassure Cynthia that John would be different with her? Wasn't it a huge slap in the face to tell someone that their cheating husband had turned over a new leaf, now that he'd found the real love of his life? Obviously, she couldn't ever say this to Cynthia, but perhaps the implication was there anyway. And of course there had to be a small part of Cynthia that hoped Maggie and John wouldn't make it. Hoped that John would cheat on her too. Because if he didn't, if he remained faithful, then that would mean that there had been something wrong with Cynthia.

Once again, Maggie felt guilty. There really was no right answer to any of this.

At least in this timeline, John hadn't unceremoniously dumped Cynthia for Yoko, leaving her humiliated and alone with Julian. In this timeline, Cynthia had dumped John for his cheating and his moping around for a woman that Time had taken away from him. Cynthia was happily married – and perhaps of all things, this fact would help to make things between herself and Cynthia a bit easier.

There was still the issue of Julian.

Maggie broached the subject carefully, "I know I've never had Julian with me without John being there, but I've really missed him. I was wondering if you'd mind if I took him to the zoo for the afternoon? We'd take Mal with us in case of any problems with fans, but without John we're unlikely to be recognized…" Maggie trailed off.

Cynthia looked like she wanted to say no, but then relented with a small sigh. "I guess I have to be ok with it, if you're going to be Julian's step-mom. It's hard to let my little boy go, but I think it's good for him." Cynthia thought for a minute, "Look, why don't you keep Julian tonight and the two of you can have a sleepover? My husband and I have theatre tickets tonight anyway and we were going to need a babysitter."

A grin broke out across Maggie's face. Of all the things she had been expecting out of this conversation, this was not one of them. "That would be wonderful, thank you."

"I'm sure Julian will be thrilled. He's been moping around since John left again."

"Well, maybe he can talk to John tonight when he calls."

"I'm sure he would love that. Please give John my regards as well."

"I'll do that."

Looking down at her hands hesitantly, Cynthia fidgeted. She was glad that Maggie had come to talk to her, but it didn't mean that they would become best friends right away. Maybe in time, but for now, things would remain somewhat superficial and polite. There was one thing she did have to get off her chest though. "I … I know I have a lot of issues where John is concerned," she said slowly. "I thought I was past most of them, but, well, he was such a large part of my life. And there are a lot of hurts there still. I supposed there always will be." Cynthia said sadly.

"I know that. I'm sorry."

"I just wanted you to know that I'll stop bringing up John's infidelities. It's not really my place to be concerned with that anymore. Just be careful, I don't want you to be surprised when it happens to you, is all. I know I'm terribly out of line in saying that, but I hope you'll take it as advice from an ex-Beatle wife to a future Beatle wife." Cynthia paused like she wanted to say more, but instead lapsed into an awkward silence. Their relationship was going to be a work in progress. After a minute, she broke the silence and said, "Well, I'll go and get Julian for you."

"Thanks." Maggie said biting her lip. Would there always be awkwardness? Most likely.

Cynthia left and Maggie sat down and sipped absentmindedly at her now-cold tea.

Had she been crazy to leave her whole life behind for a man who'd thought nothing of cheating on his wife, who had used hard drugs so casually, who could even have been labeled as abusive to his family?

Then she thought of her John, who was funny and vulnerable and tender. He was human and very flawed. But he was hers and she loved him. He would be home from the Spain soon, and they would start their new life together. Whatever that life would become, it would be theirs.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Haha, I know we are totally mean by calling the story "Mrs Lennon" and giving you the OLD Mrs. Lennon... please forgive us? Trust me, the wait will be worth it.**

**As for me personally, I think I'm done shipping Maggie/John... MAGGIE/MICK OTP!!!! ;)**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	26. Yes It Is Stories 5: Girl Talk

**YES IT IS Stories: Girl Talk**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

September 1966, right before Pattie and George leave for India.**

_**For Jean**_

"I'm exhausted!" Pattie exclaimed, as she dumped her bags on the floor next to a small table.

"I am too," Maggie Sue groaned before dropping into the chair next to Pattie. "Exactly how much stuff do you need for this trip?"

"We are going to be gone for over a month." Pattie smiled in explanation. "I just can't wait! And George is really looking forward to having a holiday, poor boy."

"It's been a long summer, hasn't it?" Maggie said in agreement. She'd only been on the latter part of the summer tour with The Beatles and it had worn her out. She didn't know how the boys had managed to get through the whole thing, especially since the tour had been one disaster after another, starting with the drama in the Philippines. Maggie had remembered enough about what had happened there to fill the band in before they'd left – but it hadn't done any good. The band had tried to assert itself, their tour management hadn't listened, Marcos had been snubbed, and things in the Philippines went sour anyway. It was a lesson. You couldn't always change the future, even with foreknowledge of it. It was not a happy thought for Maggie, who still very much sensed John's death waiting for him in 1980.

Then there was the traveling, the performing, the hotel rooms that were more like prisons – and the endless press conferences. The press conferences were particularly brutal for John, who was taken to task for some offhand remarks about the band's popularity he had made in an interview many months ago.

John's comparison of the Beatles and Jesus had happened before Maggie had come back to 1966. With no way to undo what had already been done, she could only watch the fallout in horror. When the story had broken in late July, the start of the American tour was only a few short weeks away – and the Beatles were in a bad position. They couldn't cancel the tour, but there was a growing fear that there would be attempts made on the Beatles' lives - or worse. Worse, at least for the investors, being poor concert attendance.

When this time bomb had initially exploded, the boys had all looked accusingly at Maggie for not warning them that it was coming. Maggie had sighed and wondered if it was going to be this way every time something bad happened. She wasn't omniscient or a magical fairy who could wave a wand and make the bad things disappear in a puff of smoke. All she had was a working knowledge of the future and a rough timeline. And no access to the internet to double-check the dates of when they might expect things to happen. There was also no telling how her presence here had changed the timeline. Nor was she sure she wanted to empty their lives of any surprise about their futures. Even if she were given the power to protect them from bad things, she wasn't sure it was right to do so all the time.

Still it was hard to see the reporters hounding John, wanting their pound of flesh. The assault continued, despite Brian's public press conference, until John left for the second leg of the tour. There was no respite in America, and if anything it was worse. None of this had done anything for John's temper, or his drinking. Several times Maggie, helpless and an ocean away, had listened on the phone as John had been reduced to tears over the constant barrage of questions and accusations. Every day ended with him being frustrated and beaten down. Maggie knew that John was intensely vulnerable inside, but he kept up the sharp, funny exterior so well, it was almost a surprise to see those soft insides revealed.

Brian had finally thrown his hands up and sent for Maggie to fly out to join the tour. With her arrival, John's mood had improved. She'd been able to reassure him, and the band that it would all blow ever eventually, and that someday it would be nothing more than joke on a Simpsons episode. John smiled when he remembered having seen that particular Beatles parody episode during his brief visit to the future. With Maggie's arrival, John got some of his old spirit back and even started being cheeky in the press conferences again. She was glad – she'd hated seeing him so subdued and unlike himself.

In the end, they'd all gotten through the tour in one piece. The last part of it, with John back to being himself, had even been fun. John and Paul had knicked their disguises from the NY hotel and the band had had fun sneaking around with them in some of the other hotels they stayed in. Finally, with the last stop on the tour completed, they all headed home, ready for a well-deserved break.

John had gone off to film "How I Won the War" (at Maggie's urging), Ringo was hanging out at home, Paul was considering doing a film score and taking a trip to Africa, and George and Pattie were planning on a long vacation in India.

Since John had had to leave so soon after getting home from tour, it was left to Maggie to fill their close friends in on their engagement before they announced it to the press and the world at large. Maggie wasn't looking forward to that announcement one bit. The Gatebirds gave her hell already, and she knew this would only make it worse. Still, the most awkward meeting, Cynthia, was over with, so telling the other "Beatle Women" should be relatively easy in comparison.

Of course, it had been hard to find a good time to meet for tea, between Jane's filming schedule, Pattie's vacation, and her own trip to see John in Spain, but they'd managed to find an afternoon when all of them were free. It was essentially the last possible day to have the tea before everyone went their separate ways. In fact, Ringo was going to swing by the cafe to pick her up at 6, so they could go to the airport together. Ringo wanted to pay John a visit as well, so it had made sense for them to travel together.

Pattie had dragged Maggie out shopping before heading for the cafe, because she'd wanted new clothes for India and she thought Maggie could use a few things for Spain. The day had been spent in search of perfect outfits while the conversation had been filled with gossip. Or rather, Pattie would gossip and Maggie would nod at the appropriate intervals. Either way, Maggie still marveled over the fact that even though she wasn't in her rightful time period, some things were universal. Gossip and girl talk being one of them. Of course, the difference was here, the gossip was about music legends.

Pattie's head was buried in a menu, and Maggie was trying to nudge the bags out of the way, when Jane and Maureen arrived together.

"Look who I found waiting outside?" Jane said brightly.

"Oh, sorry, Mo," Pattie said, "I didn't think you might be standing around outside waiting for us!"

"Not a problem," Maureen said smoothly, sitting down at the table.

"It looks like Mary Quant exploded in here," Jane exclaimed as she wrestled with her chair and the shopping bags impeding it.

"Just a few things for my trip," Pattie said airily as she carelessly pushed some of the bags out of Jane's way with her foot.

"Did you buy anything, Maggie?" Mo asked.

"I'm not sure my figure is made for Mary Quant, to be honest," Maggie admitted. Nineteen sixties styles were not her favorites, but she didn't have much of a choice these days, so she did her best to find a few dresses that worked with her personal sense of style. Being a Beatle girlfriend had had its perks – and one of them was that designers wanted to dress you. As far as they were concerned you were a great advertising billboard for them. Mary Quant herself had made a few things for Maggie in the past, and always had something in her size tucked away. It made it more fun to shop, since Maggie knew she wasn't built like Pattie, who could pull anything off the rack and make it look good.

Tea and assorted pastries were finally ordered and the conversation turned away from fashion and towards India.

"When do you leave, Pattie?' Jane asked conversationally.

"In two days! I'm so excited!"

"I bet George is too," Jane replied. "Is his sitar all packed?"

Pattie shrugged her shoulders and look apologetically at Maggie, "I don't really know actually! I was out last night. Maggie, do you know?"

"Not yet, he's still practicing – he wants to impress Ravi Shankar when he gets to India. Last night he was polishing it, so it would look nice!" Maggie smiled back at Pattie. Then she wondered if she should have claimed ignorance. Was it awkward that she knew so much about George? Pattie didn't seem to mind Maggie's friendship with her husband, but to an outside observer, in the sixties, she knew it had to look a bit odd. Maggie could never get past the odd dynamics between men and women in the 60s. In her own time, most of her friends were guys, some married, some not. It simply didn't matter in 2006.

"You saw George last night, did you?" Maureen asked seemingly casually.

Pattie had been out with friends, and John was in Spain, so George had had Maggie over for dinner. It was innocent; Maggie knew that, Pattie knew that, and John and George knew that, but clearly Maureen didn't. Or had Pattie said something to her?

Jane saved her from having to answer Maureen by interjecting, "George showed me a few things on the sitar once, but I think I might just stick to the guitar. Or better yet, acting." She looked at Maggie with a questioning smile. "Maggie, has George given you any lessons?" The conversation was quickly turning a bit uncomfortable.

"It turns out, I'm pretty hopeless at sitar, and he gave up trying to teach me pretty quickly!" Maggie answered a bit chagrinned. "Like you, I'll stick to the guitar."

"Better not try the drums either," Maureen said quickly, trying to make a joke, but coming off bitchy and paranoid instead. "Ringo's off the market. For lessons, I mean."

An uncomfortable silence ensued where Maggie debated the merits of informing Maureen that she already knew how to play the drums, but thankfully, the eternally sweet Pattie filled in the empty space.

"I'm hopeless at music in general," Pattie smiled at them warmly. "I'll stick to modeling." She made a few dramatic poses, pretending to be modeling for a camera, which made them all laugh.

"Jane, you should come over and play guitar with us more often," Maggie said, trying to ignore Maureen's increasingly icy demeanor.

Before Maggie's trip to the past, she'd been unaware that any of the Beatle wives or girlfriends had been musical. It was as if only the Beatles themselves were allowed to claim that particular talent in the history books and biographies. It was fascinating to her to find out that Jane actually played guitar.

"I wish I could," Jane said ruefully, " but my filming schedule has just been crazy. Paul's always complaining that I'm not home enough as it is. But I love acting too much to stop. I wish Paul got that. It's not like he's never away with the band. And I'd never ask him to stop doing what he loved for me. Sometimes I worry we just want different things." Jane frowned.

Maggie knew that Jane's career was going to get in the way of her relationship with Paul – but she didn't want to discourage it. Jane had a right to a career – and Paul and Linda were destined to be together.

Maggie and Linda had met over the summer and had hit it off. They'd kept in touch through letters and Maggie was really looking forward to the day when Linda and Paul would be a couple. Though she wasn't sure where that would put her and Jane, Maggie still tried to have a sympathetic ear because even though she and Linda were close, she genuinely liked Jane too.

"George made me cut back on modeling jobs when we got married," Pattie sympathized.

"I don't mind so much – I needed a break from it anyway – but with him away so much, I get bored."

Maggie was starting to get indignant for both of them. "You should mind, Pattie! You were…I mean, are at the top of your game! You're a great model – why should you have to cut back just because you're married? And married to a man who is away half the time! It just doesn't make sense. And Jane – you should do what makes you happy, and if acting is it, don't give it up for a man. It's just not fair, none of it!"

Done with her outburst, the girls sat there in shocked silence.

"Sorry, I just feel strongly about it." Maggie mumbled a bit embarrassed by her strident tone of voice. After all, wasn't she an accomplished and modern 21st century woman? Hadn't she given up her career for a Beatle? Really, she was no better than Pattie. Maggie had known she had limited choices with John. She could stay in the past with him, or stay in the future without him. He'd impulsively tried to stay with her in the future, but that was robbing posterity of his music, so that was no option either. Either way she sacrificed something. Was it smart that she'd chosen herself?

To make up for that choice, she'd promised herself that she would never be a quiet 60s wife. And she'd told John this in no uncertain terms, which had somewhat surprisingly amused him. She knew he had fairly chauvinist underpinnings, so she was a bit taken aback when he'd been so lamb-like about the whole thing. He'd promised her that he wouldn't stand in the way of any career she chose to pursue. Maggie had known that John had supported Yoko's head for business – but she hadn't expected him to do the same for her so easily, and so soon. Maggie swore to herself that somehow she would have a career, that she'd find a way to use her brain and her hard-won degree.

The problem was she just hadn't figured out how yet.

There'd been no time to really look into her options – it had been a constant whirlwind of activity around the tour and their engagement. When John had left and the quiet had set in, she'd used the time to think. What did she want? Did she want to stay in astrophysics? How happy had she been there? Was her PhD a goal to be accomplished, or was it something she'd be unhappy without using? Could she get involved in research in the 60s? Other women had done it – would she have to start all over on a degree? She had no credentials in this time. She wasn't sure she could face writing another dissertation. And she was quite confident the topic she'd chosen for her first one wouldn't even exist in this time. A lot had changed in astrophysics in 50 years. Maybe, she thought, she could theorize a bunch of stuff that wouldn't be proven for decades, and make herself famous that way! It was a thought. Of course that would also bring about unnecessary and unneeded attention her way, and goodness knew she didn't need scrutiny of her background. So, in her logical way, she decided to mull the problem over in the back of her mind. She was better when she let her brain work things out in their own time.

In the meantime, she changed her focus to the Beatles. She'd made a list of every problem she foresaw for them, including their lack of money sense, their lack of education, how easily they were impressed by charlatans. Then, as scared to death as she was to do it, she'd marched into Brian Epstein's office unannounced and given him the list, as well as an earful of carefully phrased fears regarding the band. He'd been surprised, but also taken her seriously. She still couldn't figure out where she got the nerve to pull a stunt like that. Normally just the idea of talking to Brian made her nervous. For some reason that man always had her worried, as if he was constantly watching her and evaluating her, determining her worth. Plus he was so very prim and proper, and she was anything but!

While she felt she'd made strides, she was, in the 60s, not what she was in her own time. She had no job, and was living off John, who was more than happy to support her. Her dependence on him bothered her, but what could she do? Her money and life savings, as well as her paycheck were 40 years off in the future.

Pattie looked at her thoughtfully. "Well, maybe I will talk to George about it, while we're in India. Honestly, I'd hoped to be pregnant by now, and then modeling would have been out anyway. But with no baby on the horizon… it's silly to stop when I'm not even pregnant yet, isn't it?"

Maggie was sure George wouldn't be thrilled that she was pumping his wife full of 21st century feminism, but frankly she didn't care what he thought. If Pattie loved modeling, she shouldn't have to give it up. Plus, Maggie knew the sad truth - that Pattie would never have those children she wanted.

"I, for one was happy to give up hairdressing," Maureen said tartly. "The kids keep me pretty busy – I'm not sure I'd have time for anything else!"

"Oh, Mo – your kids are adorable too," Pattie sighed.

"I'm not sure I want kids," Jane admitted. "But Paul wants 10 of them. He keeps talking about getting engaged, and there we go with us wanting different things again."

"I'm not sure what I want either, as far as kids go," Maggie said, trying to change the subject off of Paul and Jane's doomed relationship. She knew they would be engaged soon, and that it wouldn't end well.

"Well, you're not even married to John yet, are you? So, no need to worry," Maureen said. "Not that that has stopped John in the past, of course…"

Once more, an awkward silence followed.

"Actually…" Maggie breathed in, thinking, here goes nothing. "That's kind of why I wanted to get together with you all. John and I are engaged. We're telling our closest friends first, before it gets announced to the press."

"Oh, congratulations!" Pattie gave Maggie a hug, as did Jane. Maureen was on the opposite side of the table, and stayed seated. It wasn't noticeable to anyone but Maggie that Mo had been the only one to not give her a hug or congratulate her.

Maggie and Maureen had never clicked. They had nothing in common whatsoever. Moreover, Maggie had read about Maureen and George's affair in a Beatles bio - and though, it was completely unfair and smacked of a double-standard, she'd always hated Maureen for sleeping with Pattie's husband. It had hurt both Ringo and Pattie - and had helped drive Pattie into Eric Clapton's arms.

Never mind that both Ringo and George had slept with countless women and had hardly been faithful to their wives. For that matter, she also doubted that Pattie had been completely faithful either. Maggie knew she was being completely unfair to Maureen. Maybe if they had clicked personally things would be different, but they hadn't. So now there was a slight underlying antipathy there – and plenty of passive-aggressiveness on Maureen's part.

Of all the wives and girlfriends, Maureen came off as the least secure. After all, Jane was an actress and Pattie was a model. Mo was just a hairdresser from Liverpool lucky enough to snag a Beatle. And here was Maggie, who seemed to have come out of nowhere and been immediately accepted by the Boys as no one else had ever been before.

Yes, Maureen was definitely suspicious, resentful, and to a degree, jealous of her.

"How did you and John meet again?" Pattie asked after hugs and congratulations were offered. "I don't think Mo ever heard the full story. And I only got it through George, and you know how the Boys are!"

Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Yes, she did know how the Boys were. In fact, she was the only Beatle Girl that could truly be considered to be on the inside of that tight little circle, despite the fact that Jane could play the guitar too. And she was never quite sure if she was resented for it.

In her own time, Maggie had had numerous male friends, and had been schooled and socialized side by side with them. They were her equals, her playmates, and her friends. But in the 60s, men and women weren't friends. They weren't even really equals. They didn't kid and tease and hang out, at least not without there at least being a hint that something "else" was going on.

Maggie loved the Beatles, but they were her friends, and only her friends. She had no particular interest in dating or sleeping with any of them. Except for John, of course, she mused to herself fondly. She had a great interest in doing both of those things with John quite a bit. But only with John.

But having the Beatles consider her their equal, or as equal as any outsider could be (she still wasn't a Beatle), put her on unequal footing with the other wives and girlfriends. The Beatles certainly didn't treat the rest of the wives and girlfriends the same way they treated her.

The other thing that made Maggie uncomfortable with Pattie's line of questioning was that she could never divulge to them the real way she and John had met. Maggie was tired of lying and of having to be careful what she said around the girls, or anyone for that matter. The Boys all knew (it was part of what bound them all together… Maggie Sue's BIG SECRET) so she could just be herself around them. This was harder. She'd never been good at girl talk and having to tell made-up stories didn't make it any easier. She wished she could just be truthful, but her story was so crazy, she'd been lucky to convince the Beatles of it, let alone anyone else. No, as far as the girls knew, she had been born in the 1940s just like them.

Forcing a smile on her face, Maggie began her story with fake enthusiasm. "Well, I'd always wanted to see London, so I just decided to take a vacation and see the sights!"

"Oh, how brave," Pattie sighed. "I wish I had the nerve to do that. I took a girlfriend with me when I went on that trip to…"

"We'll never get through it at this rate," Mo interrupted. "Go on, then." She turned and looked hard at Maggie.

"Right. Well, I was vacationing alone, which I know is weird, but I like traveling that way. I was near EMI when I suddenly felt sick. Something I ate maybe? British food doesn't always agree with me," she said apologetically and half-jokingly. "I went inside and I must have looked horrible, because they let me use the washroom right away and made me sit down for a while. I thought they'd throw me right out, figuring I was after the Beatles." Maggie started to relax into the story, embellishing a little for effect. And trying desperately to remember if she'd told the story differently before.

"I got lost on the way out, and bumped into John. And, so here we are!"

"Just like that." Maureen said, rather flatly.

Maggie tried not to panic. Did Maureen not buy the story? Certainly she couldn't suspect Maggie was a time-traveler – no one could possibly come up with the truth. More likely they thought she was an opportunist, out to snare a Beatle.

"Oh, come on, Mo – you know what John is like. He takes fancy to things rather suddenly," Pattie said, jumping to Maggie's defense.

"I couldn't believe it myself," said Maggie rather truthfully. "I still wasn't feeling well, so he took me up on the roof for some air, which only partly helped." Maggie grimaced. It still embarrassed her that she had vomited in front of John Lennon. "After I'd recovered a bit, he took me into the studio and introduced me to the rest of the band. Never in a million years did I see that happening!" This was the easiest part of the story, because it had really happened that way. And it was also believable in its own way. It was actually completely in character for John to suddenly decide to introduce a bird he'd just met to the rest of the Beatles. And as John had been single and unmarried at the time the story was supposedly taking place, it hadn't even been scandalous – just spontaneous.

Pattie sighed and leaned her face on her hand. "That's so romantic!"

"All except for the vomiting," Maggie corrected her.

Pattie giggled. "Well, it didn't seem to have scared him off!"

"I know – he even held my hair back while I threw up! I mean, a Beatle! John! It was very surreal."

"I suppose you were a fan before you met him?" Jane smiled. Mo raised an eyebrow at this. Maggie knew Maureen thought she was onto her.

"Of course! But who isn't?"

"Was John your favorite, then?" Maureen asked.

"He was! Which is fortunate for me, I suppose!" Maggie said smiling sweetly at Mo.

"Yes, it would be kind of awkward otherwise, wouldn't it?" Maureen offered. The girls all looked at her. "I mean, if it'd had been one of our husbands." Maggie wasn't sure if she was making a joke or not.

She was once again aware that she did have a unique relationship with all of their significant others, especially Pattie's husband. Pattie was too sweet to feel threatened by it – she was a social butterfly and somewhat of a free spirit. Maggie very much liked her and how unconventional she was. But she never knew how comfortable Pattie was with Maggie's relationship with George. She and George were very close – but being each other's confidants was as far as it went. She admitted that it might look bad – at least to someone like Maureen who might be paying attention to such things. She doubted Pattie minded (or at least hoped that was true).

Jane was terribly self-possessed and was busy with her acting career. And Paul had hardly fawned all over Maggie when she'd first arrived, in fact he'd been quite nasty to her at first, so Jane never seemed concerned about Maggie's relationship with Paul.

"Oh, Mo, stop it!" Pattie giggled. Maureen's passive aggressive jabs seemed largely lost on Pattie, and for that Maggie was grateful. "I think Maggie's got her hands full with John! He's demanding, from what I hear!" Maggie remembered reading somewhere that Pattie and John had had a fling. Sometimes a memory of Beatle biographies was a curse. None of this had happened yet. Pattie and John hadn't hooked up. Maureen and George hadn't hooked up. It wouldn't happen in this timeline. No Maureen and George, and NO John and Yoko. None of it.

"I hope you have a good time watching John film his picture," Jane said smoothly changing the subject. "It'll be fun for you to see a movie set!"

"Are you leaving for the airport this evening?" Pattie wanted to know.

"In just a few minutes," Maggie said. And then casting a surreptitious glance at Maureen continued, "Actually, Ringo was going to stop by here to pick me up on his way to the airport."

"Hello, ladies!" Just like that Ringo materialized next to the table. He leaned over and kissed his wife and then looked up and smiled across at Maggie. "Ready to go, Mags?"

Maureen glared at her, not even concealing her malice towards Maggie.

"Yep!" Maggie hopped up from the table, glad to be leaving. Mo was poisoning her good mood. She hugged Pattie and told her to have a good time in India, and hugged Jane, wishing her success on her new film. Then, knowing she'd chastise herself later for being so childish, she waved mischievously and winked at Maureen as she took Ringo's arm. Let Mo think what she wanted. She was tired and didn't give a damn any more.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Oh NOES! What will Maggie Sue do???? She's friends with Jane and also friends with Linda! Should she interfere??? More importantly.... Does Edward Cullen like her? No wait, wrong story....**

**Also - our apologies to the real Maureen (and any Maureen fans) for the liberties we took with her character - we're sure she was a lovely person in real life.**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	27. Yes It Is Stories 6: A Surprising Develo

**YES IT IS Stories: A Surprising Development**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

September 1966, In Spain with John.**

"If you ever leave me, I'll be sad and blue…Don't you ever leave me, I'm so in love with yooooouuuuu…." John drew the last syllable out to comic proportions, making Maggie giggle. He leaned over his guitar and kissed her.

She loved when he sang "Bad to Me" – it was one of the many songs the Beatles had written and given away for free. This one had gone to Billy J Kramer. Maggie couldn't imagine just being handed a Lennon/McCartney original so thoughtlessly. And freely.

Loyally, Maggie had always preferred the Beatles versions of these songs. She knew a few of them from before, like "I Call Your Name" and "I Wanna Be Your Man", but John had once dug up some acetates of song demos he and Paul had recorded before handing them off. They were gems, completely new to her – rough, but that was what made them so charming. She had fallen in love with this particular song, and since the intro spoke to their personal situation, he sang it for her whenever she asked for it.

Currently, they were sitting on the bed in their hotel room, the windows open to the tropical night, a gentle breeze blowing through the curtains. They were in Spain where John was filming "How I Won the War" and he was not altogether enjoying it.

Maggie had just arrived earlier that day. They'd only been apart a couple of weeks, but still, John had swept her off her feet into a hug the second she'd stepped off the airplane Clearly he'd missed her, and she him.

"Thank God, luv," he said, "I've been bored out of me skull!" He continued to hug her tightly, pulling her body flush against his.

Ringo, feeling left out, interrupted their reunion with, "When do I get my hug?"

John immediately released Maggie and leapt at Ringo, giving him a playful bear hug and a smack on the cheek. Maggie laughed, used to the boys' antics by now, and fully expecting it to be there at every turn in their life.

"Oh, save it for Paul!" Ringo said with a grin, pushing John away. Holding John at arms length, Ringo finally got a good look at his friend. "What happened to you, did you lose a fight with the barber?"

John grinned and ran his hands through his short hair. "This is what they do to you when you enlist, son."

"And you're wearing glasses – is this the sad end of Paulie leading you around the clubs blind as a bat, and propping you up in front of the first available bird?"

Maggie cleared her throat. "I'm still here, you know." She glared at Ringo half-seriously, knowing he was just teasing.

"I think I'll go see about our luggage!" Ringo said brightly, quickly extricating himself from a potentially awkward situation.

Maggie laughed at him. She knew John wasn't picking up birds in bars anymore – at least not to her knowledge. She trusted John – but at the same time, she knew the history of the Beatles very well and knew that none of them had let marriages or relationships get in the way of a good time. But she tried not to think about that, focusing on better things, like John. Who was standing right in front of her grinning like a lunatic.

"Do you like the new glasses, then?" John asked her eagerly, wanting to know what she thought, and also happy to get away from the subject of his infamous past. He had made every effort to stay faithful to Maggie, right down to drinking himself into a stupor at night, so he'd avoid the temptations of the local nightlife. She was special and he'd screwed up too many things in his life to want to give this one a reason to leave him. He was afraid of slipping up and just hoped he'd be able to overcome a lifetime of bad habits and doing whatever he wanted with no thought as to who it affected. He was belatedly feeling some guilt over his treatment of Cynthia these days. Wanting to stay good was one reason he'd wanted Maggie here in Spain – besides the mind-numbing boredom of movie sets.

Maggie looked at him – he certainly did look different from the last time she'd seen him – but at the same time, he looked so familiar. Maggie hadn't wanted to say anything to him beforehand, but she had known that once he went off to Spain, he'd never really look the same again. He was at the cusp of the Sgt Pepper period that would mean matching mustaches and bright clothes. And for John, an LSD addiction. She knew he had already tried it and liked it. How long he would stick to his promise to not use it, she didn't know. Nor did she know how it would affect the Sgt Pepper album. After all, John had a fanciful imagination and she half suspected that none of the band needed drugs to come up with the imagery contain in the songs they would write in the next few months. Of course, she couldn't truly delude herself into thinking drugs weren't going to be a huge part of the culture of the 60s and of rock. Sgt Pepper was only the tip of the iceberg.

She put up her finger and touched the rim of John's famous granny glasses gingerly. They were iconic and she almost couldn't believe she was touching them. It felt a bit forbidden, like touching a museum piece – except they were worn by a living, breathing person – someone so dear to her. Most of the time when she was with him, she was able to forget that she was with an icon - not just of rock music, but of the 60s, of the counter culture, of the peace movement. So many things, whether deservedly or not, were associated with John Lennon and his music. It was moments like this that brought it all back to her. She was engaged to THE John Lennon. Oh God.

"What's wrong, luv? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He peered at her through the round lenses. Her once flushed cheeks had suddenly taken on an almost sickly pallor. "It's only me."

She blinked and looked at his familiar face. Was it familiar because it belonged to her fiancé, or familiar because that face had once upon a time peered at her from the calendar hung on her office wall?

"Luv?"

Maggie blinked again and his face came back into focus, the two images blending back into the one person she loved more than anyone.

"Sorry, just a weird flashback. Or, rather, forward." She shook her head.

"You knew, didn't you?" John looked at her accusingly. "You didn't seem surprised by the new hair and glasses because you already knew!"

"Of course, I did, John. How could I not?"

"And you didn't say anything?"

"What, and ruin it for you? I couldn't do that! I do like the hair, by the way." She ran her fingers through it tentatively, at first, and then gave it a good ruffle. Grabbing her, John pulled her in for another hug.

Letting her go, he looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "I wanted to surprise you with it. But it's hard to surprise someone who's already witnessed your whole life, isn't it then?"

"Well, I expect my being here will change a lot of things in your life." She said, silently thinking at John, _You will never meet Yoko, if I can help it. And you will never be shot, if I can help it. _"Hopefully it won't be for the worse because of me." It was something she worried about a lot. From being able to prevent John's murder to how curtailing John's drug use might affect his music, to the fact that she might have caused Sean not to be born. She still didn't know if she had been selfish to stay, or if her leaving would have been more selfish.

"How could it?" he asked, kissing her. There was so much he didn't know, she thought sadly. It was a burden sometimes.

Trying to reassure herself as well as him, she smiled up at John, "There will be lots of surprises for us, I'm sure of it. Good ones."

"That's the best kind, luv," he said. He meant it, but she could tell that his mind had already left the conversation, and was on to the next. That was John. "Have you been on a movie set, then?" John said, "Will a tour of it tomorrow hold any surprises for you?" he teased.

"I'm sure it will, though I have seen pictures of you in your costume. Does that count?"

"Did I look good in those pictures?"

"Very. In fact, you were doing obscene things to a lollipop. You should have seen all the comments when those got posted online." She raised her eyebrows at him, trying to imitate his leer.

[Editor's note: . ]

John choked with laughter. "Oh, Miss Margaret of the Future, how I've missed you."

He grabbed her hand and they started walking to the terminal to find Ringo and their luggage. "I have a new song to play you. I started being all nostalgic for home, and I felt like writing about it. Something new, you see."

Maggie had to hide her excitement, so as not to ruin yet another surprise.

"I can't wait to hear it!" she smiled fondly at him.

He looked down at her, "Naughty girl, you already know which song it is, don't you?" He shook his head.

"I've got a feeling - but I won't know for sure until I hear it, will I?" She stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

After dinner with Ringo, they had retired to their room early. Ringo, sensing that they wanted to be alone together, had excused himself pleading tiredness from the flight. She was sure Ringo was heading to bed – but that on his way he'd stop by the hotel bar to pull some birds. One more thing Maureen would find a way to blame her for, she was sure. _Maureen needn't feel threatened by me,_ she thought. _She's got bigger problems. _

John pulled her into their room, kissing her as he shut the door behind them, instantly blocking out any further thoughts of Maureen and Ringo.

Stumbling backwards, their lips still locked, Maggie allowed herself to melt into John. It had only been a few weeks, and yet she felt as if it had been years. There were always hundreds of worries and they were worse when he was away. She tried to fight them logically, one by one, but it wasn't always easy.

Her newest worry had hit her in the middle of the night just recently. What if she accidentally sent herself back to her own time, just like Christopher Reeve had at the end of Somewhere in Time? She'd used the same means of time travel he had, only it hadn't lasted in the movie. It was ridiculous, really – she hadn't suddenly disappeared when she'd brought out her 21st century iPod, had she? Maybe these silly thoughts were just trying to disguise her biggest worry – John getting distracted and moving on to someone else. Leaving her. He had made promises and she was sure he meant them when he said them. But where would she be if he got tired of her? What if he moved on to Yoko?

These nagging thoughts always seemed unimportant when she was in John's arms and so it was a relief to have him hold her so tightly to him.

Then again, her need for him could really just stem for the fact that this was John Lennon she had in her arms. And he was really cute! Maggie bit back her laughter but couldn't help it as a small giggle escaped her throat.

"You know, you really need to stop laughing at us right before we do this. It's giving me a complex," he said between kisses.

Running her fingers up and under his shirt, Maggie shrugged and smiled at him. "I have a feeling you'll get over it."

"I don't know," he said, pushing her back towards the bed. "What if I can never perform again? What if I'm permanently inept at satisfying you for the rest of my life?"

"Then I'll tell Paul and he and the boys will call you 'limpy'."

John pulled back from her. "You'd laugh at my insecurities?" He threw his arm over his face to muffle his very loud and very fake sobs.

"Of course," she said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Well, in that case, I'd better not give you a reason to bring the others into this!" Then he leered at her, "Unless, you're into that?" He waggled his eyebrows to emphasize the point, and Maggie was unable to stop her laughter. "No, no, you're more than enough for me." John looked smug for a minute, so she couldn't help adding, "Besides, I hear you've had Paul already and he's no good."

"That's my line!" John protested.

With a grin on her face, she pulled him back down, muffling his protests with kisses and enjoying the feeling of his body settling on top of hers.

* * *

Later that evening, the guitars had come out, and John was in such a good mood from their reunion, that he played all her requests. Maggie loved singing harmony with him – she knew she wasn't a real Beatle, but she loved to pretend she was. When Paul wasn't around, of course. But here, she had John to herself and they played their way through all the old favorites.

"How about the new one, then?" John asked.

"Yes, please!"

He riffled through some papers, where he had jotted down his lyrics.

"Now, it's not finished, so it might be a bit rough. I think I might want to have Geoff do something with it, like slow it down, so it doesn't sound as much like me."

"Hmm." She'd always hated the final version of this song – simply because it **didn't **sound like John. But she sat patiently and waited for him to begin, expecting to hear those lyrics she had long ago committed to memory. _Living is easy with eyes closed…_

"You know you are better than a song

You are where I belong..."

Her own eyes snapped open before he had even made it through the first sentence. "That's not 'Strawberry Fields Forever!" she exclaimed! She panicked for a moment – would he never write it because she had interfered in the timeline? But then, wait – she had never heard the song he had just started to play for her!

New Beatles music?

"Strawberry Fields, eh? You were expecting it, weren't you, luv?" He bounced up and down, excited, "Well, old Johnny has a few surprises in him yet!"

"What?!" She was confused and nearly speechless, her mind trying to logically catalog all the possibilities inherent in this new development.

"Well, I have had a lot of time to think, and I did get nostalgic for Liverpool and the old days – so I did write a song about it. It's good, I think. I couldn't wait to play it for you – but then, I figured you probably already knew it, and that it was probably little Maggie Sue's favorite song from when she was babe in the cradle. Am I close?"

She scowled, because he was half-right. "Actually, 'Octopus's Garden in the Shade' was my favorite when I was little. I developed a rather late appreciation for 'Strawberry Fields'. Because it doesn't sound like you!" she said pointedly.

"Oh really, well…wait, Octopus's ….what?" his curiosity made him lose track of his comeback.

"Never mind," she grinned.

"No, wait – did I really write a song about Octopuses? Was I, you know…?" he mimed smoking a joint.

She punched his arm. "No, it's Ringo's song – don't you remember, I think I even mentioned it to you all once! If he ever comes in to the studio with that song, you'd better record it! I have to preserve my childhood love of the Beatles, or we'll hit into some terrible time travel paradox that ends up with me becoming a passionate Rolling Stones fan, traveling back in time, and falling in love with Mick, and then where would we be?"

He pondered that for a minute, and then made a menacing fist and comically punched at the air, nearly dropping his guitar in the process. "I might have to cripple Mick, is what I'd have to do!"

"And then you'd club me over the head and drag me back to your Beatle cave?"

"Exactly!" he set the guitar aside and tried to grab her and kiss her, but she stopped him.

"Wait, a minute, we're off track now. We were talking about your new song. Or songs? You did write something to do with Strawberry Fields?"

"I did that very thing. Lots of strawberries. And fields." He nodded vigorously, making her laugh. "And then I got to thinking how irritating it can be not being able to surprise you. Now, I'm no NASA scientist, but I thought I might be able to trick the time traveler by writing about something that only just happened. So I wrote a song about that conversation we had on the flight back from San Francisco. Do you remember it?" he looked at her eagerly.

She gaped at him for a minute. "That song was about…"

"And you'd never heard it before, had you? Well, what you let me play of it before you made me stop!"

"No! It was completely new to me!" She didn't know what to think or what to say. To hear something completely new, by a band that had broken up before she was born – that was a rare treat. But it also meant that they were now in completely new territory. All she had to protect these people that she now loved was her knowledge of the future – her memory of what would happen and when. But that was all breaking down, by the virtue of her being here.

If she could save George and Linda from disease by forcing preventative medicine on them – that was one thing. If she could stop John from going to that art gallery and meeting Yoko, that was another. Those were all established things. But what if her being here somehow made it so that Mark David Chapman wasn't lying in wait for John outside the Dakota in New York City on December 8, 1980? If that didn't come true, then she'd have no idea how to protect John. And she had no way of knowing if it would, now that she was here. And what if her actions brought John into the path of another dangerous psycho? She tried to quench her fear and push it deep inside her.

She spent so much time worrying, that she hadn't considered an unexpected positive outcome like this. Like new Beatles music. She had hoped she might be able to keep the band together long enough for them to keep creating music past 1970, but she had never really considered that her life with John might inspire new music. She'd learned that John had written songs for her in the two years they'd been apart – but they had ended up all being ones she already knew. That was mind-blowing in and of itself – and it gave them new meaning. But they weren't new.

New songs.

And now, smiling, she handed the guitar back to him. She wanted to hear the new song all the way through. Her surprise. One of the many she knew was in store for her. It was terrifying. And wonderful.

* * *

**A/N: **

**A Bit of harmless fluff this time and OH NOES!!! MAGGIE SUE IS CHANGING THE TIMELINE!!!!! BAD MAGGIE SUE BAD!!! WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GONNA CHANGE????? I SUPPOSE YOU'LL WANT TO RUN APPLE NEXT!!!!!!!111!!!**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	28. Yes It Is Stories 7: Eppy

**YES IT IS Stories: Eppy**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

* * *

**January 1967**

Unease filled Maggie Sue as she sat outside the sparsely decorated office at Apple, fidgeting in her chair. The fact that the office was nearly empty bothered her, because the last time she'd been there it had been a warm, inviting, and tastefully decorated office. Now it was cold and lifeless, and unrecognizable to the people that had known it before.

Brian Epstein, the Beatles' manager, had asked Maggie to meet him here at 3 o'clock sharp, and of course, she was 15 minutes early. She'd wanted to be sure she was on time. She guessed Brian was big on punctuality, though she also guessed he didn't often get it from the band. Brian wasn't here yet though, and she didn't know where he was. She suspected he was probably down at EMI glancing in on the boys while they recorded what would become Sgt Pepper. This made her smile fondly to herself, but then her unease returned.

She had no idea what Brian wanted to meet with her about, but it couldn't be good. Brian didn't normally bother with Beatle wives or girlfriends, or in her case, fiancés. Of course, she was no ordinary Beatle girl.

When she'd chosen to stay in the past, they'd needed to construct her an entirely new identity – they'd been forced to confide in Brian for this, because John hadn't the faintest clue how to go about getting forged documents. Besides, whenever the Beatles had a problem Brian or Mal or Terry solved it.

She and the boys had all piled into Brian's office and had had a closed-door conference which had taken several hours. Brian, obviously, had been disbelieving at first, knowing what kind of pranks the boys liked to pull on him, and also knowing that the boys had been known to take mind-altering substances from time to time.

In the end, it had been John to convince him that they were all telling the truth. John was the one who'd most liked to tease Brian, knowing Brian's feelings and knowing Brian's soft spots. But John had been so heartfelt and so unlike himself, that Brian had no other option but to believe him. After he'd combed carefully through Maggie's wallet, listened to her iPod, and heard everything the boys had to say he could no longer doubt her story.

Brian had no real reason to help her, of course, and Maggie still didn't quite understand why he did. But the Beatles were his Boys – and whatever they wanted (and in particular, John), he'd help them get. Added to that, she knew Brian was insecure about losing his hold on the band. Perhaps being asked to share in this secret made him feel included on a very exclusive level. Being the one to come up with the needed solution for this problem also helped increase his standing with the band, and served to keep them dependent on him.

Once Brian had made up his mind, he'd made some phone calls and within a few weeks, he'd called Maggie back over to his office. Behind closed doors, he'd presented her with a new identity, including a fake US birth certificate, US social security card, passport, and whatever other documents he'd thought she would need. Maggie didn't know how he gotten them and she knew it was best if she just didn't ask.

Brian seemed confident that the press wouldn't dig too deeply, but Maggie knew that would be unlikely…she'd read too many biographies on each of the Beatle wives and girlfriends to hope for that. Her being an American would slow any British reporters up, since they'd have to go through US records to learn about her, but The Beatles were already a world sensation. Once news that she and John were engaged went public, they'd look at everything.

Brian, knowing this would happen, that reporters would want to know what schools she'd been too, had had to make up an elaborate story about Maggie having been home schooled by her parents – who had conveniently died. And Brian had had to set up death certificates for them as well. Maggie figured by the time the internet rolled around, making records easier to access, it would be years too late for her real identity to matter. It was horridly complex and Maggie just hoped that her new identity would hold up to the scrutiny. Perhaps if she tried to stay under the radar, or behind the scenes?

Of course now, sitting and waiting for Brian to call her in, she had to wonder if perhaps she'd been too hopeful. Had the falseness of her identity been discovered already?

Or, she cringed, perhaps it was worse. Feeling bored with John and tour and wanting to make herself useful, she'd made up a list of everything she felt could go wrong for the Beatles. She'd been a bit careful as she knew Brian had made some huge mistakes in managing the band. There'd been the bad merchandising deal, the Philippines fiasco which the band blamed him for, and perhaps the most serious, the music publishing deal. She didn't want to make Brian angry – she'd read about his temper. Nor did she want to rub his nose in it. If she wanted to be a part of running the Beatles (and she did), she needed to make sure Brian accepted her. He needed to accept her as someone who could be a useful tool to him, rather than a usurper and a threat. Brian had to be handled carefully. She was a scientist, though – and her thoughts were nearly always logical. So she'd made up a very logical list of problems and possible solutions, with no blame attached to any of it.

On a day when she was feeling bold, she'd marched into his office and given it to him along with a speech she'd rehearsed. When she was done, she hadn't waited for a response, but fled, just hoping she'd done the right thing. Maggie had done what she had to do, though, to try to protect John and the others. Plus, she wanted to be involved. She wanted a place here in the 60s. Something of her own.

There'd been a note on the list she'd given Brian to contact her to discuss it, if he wanted. She'd been sure to add that she only had their best interests at heart, and that she wanted her knowledge of the future to be of use to Brian, as he saw fit. (That last was to appeal to his sense of vanity. Which was the logical thing to do.)

Maggie sighed. There was the issue of Brian's own fate. She had kept silent about what she knew of Brian's future. She was determined to save him too, but felt she needed to play this one very carefully. She wasn't sure if his death had been accidental or purposeful or some combination of the two, so she felt like she needed to get a better and more personal measure of the man before she could determine a course of action. All she'd had to go on was a third hand perspective from books. Unfortunately, getting to know Brian had proven difficult. Maggie couldn't seem to get a read on him easily. He seemed happy enough, but was prone to mood swings, from what she could tell. Of course, she wasn't often around him, as a Beatle girlfriend. _Fiance_, she reminded herself.

Scrubbing her hands across her face Maggie glanced down at her watch and saw that Brian was very nearly late. As far as she could tell he was never late for anything. A sinking feeling started to form in the pit of her stomach… it was too early for that… he wasn't supposed to die until the Maharishi came to visit. Still, she couldn't shake her sense of foreboding, and was determined to track down a phone and give John a ring (oh, how she missed cell phones!) when a quiet voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

"Margaret Susan, I hope you haven't been waiting for me for too long?" Brian's gentle voice asked as he looked down at her.

Startled, Maggie jumped up and smoothed down her skirt, and hair. Something about Brian's careful manner and perfectly groomed appearance always made her feel like a slob. "No, Mr. Epstein. Just a few minutes. I got here early," she said to him hurriedly, feeling like an idiot. Why did this man make her so nervous?

Brian frowned at that, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly, "Margaret, I've already asked you to please call me Brian. There is no need to be so formal." He said, formally, of course.

Maggie didn't even know how to respond. She'd known him as Brian from the Beatle books, but in person, he was so much more formal that what she was used to that she felt compelled to call him Mr. Epstein. Instead of responding, she smiled up at him wanly and waited to see what he wanted.

Realizing he wasn't going to get a response from her, he gestured into the very bare office, and said "After you," before following her into the room. He settled himself, surprisingly, on a sofa and not behind the desk, and told her to sit wherever she'd like.

After some hesitation Maggie perched herself on the edge of a chair, and waited for the bad news. She tried not to fidget as Brian stared at her, as if he were evaluating her worthiness to be there. It wasn't done in a cruel way, but just in a business like manner. She was business to him after all.

After several moments of awkward silence, Brian finally spoke. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to come here today?" At Maggie's quick glance up at him and silent nod of assent he continued, "Let me put your mind at ease about one thing, Margaret, your identity is just fine. No one knows, and I don't think anyone ever will. Trust me on that."

Maggie could feel the tension leave the room as she breathed a sigh of relief… one of her worst fears was for naught. Her secret was safe. She could stay with John in 1967. But the tension in the room was, if possible, worse then it was before, and yet Brian still said nothing.

Finally Maggie couldn't take it any longer. "Thank you Mr. Epstein… Brian… you have no idea how much both John and I appreciate that."

He just gave her the hint of a smile at that, but then continued to stare, evaluating again.

Confused and uncertain whether she should even bring up the list she'd given him herself, Maggie started to get to her feet and said, "If that's all-" but was cut off by Brian who stood up and turned to a small mini bar, "I'm so sorry, where are my manners? Would you like something to drink Margaret?"

"Um, sure. A coke please." Maggie replied, even more confused now, by all this. What did he want with her?

Brian returned with her coke poured into a whisky tumbler, handed it to her and sat back down with a drink himself. "Now where was I? Ah yes, I was getting to the purpose of our meeting." He settled himself back onto the sofa and took a sip of his drink, so Maggie followed suit. Just as she'd begun to swallow, Brian continued the conversation, "I asked you here today because I'm putting you in charge of Apple Corps, effective immediately. That is, if you want the job."

Maggie spat out her coke onto the rug and started coughing as she choked out a hoarse "WHAT?!" She'd expected a lecture on her temerity, or even for Brian to rage at her for implying that he was fit to make decisions for the Beatles without her interference. Or even stone cold silence from his quarter. At best she'd hoped to be able to sit down and have a real discussion about how she could help him. But this – this was completely unexpected.

And there was something else. Apple Corps wasn't supposed to be created until 1968. She thought quickly to herself – they'd come up with the idea nearly a year early. Was it her interference? She'd tried to word things carefully in her letter to avoid giving away too much, but surely the idea of a tax shelter had been a good one. In the old timeline, the Beatles had done it without Brian, and it had scared him. Maybe her list had given him reason to grab the bull by the horns and run with the idea before the band could do it without him? John hadn't mentioned any of this to her. It must be one of his little surprises. He was constantly springing things on her these days, testing her – trying to figure out what he could find that would be new to her. It was often unnerving.

Maggie sat there, looking at Brian in disbelief. "Oh dear, that was a Persian rug, Margaret. This is no way to treat your new office." Brian lectured her with a hint of a smile on his face as he got a tea towel and laid it down on top of the dark liquid, trying to absorb what he could.

Maggie was instantly down on the floor, grabbing the towel from his hands. "Let me do that." She ordered, momentarily wondering where her assertiveness came from. Actually, she was usually always assertive, but around Brian, that was a different matter. He intimidated her and she had no idea why, but for right now, she was too shocked, and a bit angry to be timid towards him. "And have you lost your mind?" She demanded angrily, "How is making me in charge of Apple helping me stay under the radar? It's like BEGGING the media to dig up dirt on me! I gave you that list of ideas to help you – I didn't expect you to create Apple Corp a year early and then hand it over to me!"

Brian examined his perfectly manicured fingernails as he lounged on the sofa. He responded, "Be realistic, Margaret. You yourself said that even the best forgeries these days won't stand up to scrutiny in the future, so I've decided to hide you in the open. Have the media do all their digging on you now, when your documents will withstand their snooping, and in the future, no one will check because your credentials have already been established. This _is_ laying low, in my opinion. But you're the scientist, you tell me." He finished with a smile at her. "And that list showed me that you are the perfect one to run this business. You will know what to look out for. You know the dangers out there." He added, "I also wanted to reward you for bring the list to me and no one else. I appreciate loyalty."

Maggie stopped dabbing at the floor at that and sat back on her heels and pondered what he'd said. After a few moments, she turned to him and regarded him curiously before beginning slowly, "Yes… logically what you're saying does make sense… but…"

"But?" he questioned, and eyebrow raised at her.

Maggie took a deep breath and drew herself up, squared her shoulders, and faced him fully before continuing. Her nerve was starting to fail her again, and she would not let it! "But, this is the 1967, Mr. Epstein. I mean…. Brian. Not 2006. Women just DON'T run record labels, or corporations or whatever Apple is these days. It's just, not done. Not yet. I won't be accepted." Her cheeks flushed and she couldn't believe she'd said all that. She was the one complaining about giving up her career to stay in the past. And here was Brian giving her a chance to start a new one.

Brian started chuckling quietly at her.

"Margaret, I never thought you'd be one to back down from a challenge. Besides, women do run clothing boutiques, and Apple will be that as well, I suspect" Brian told her, and before she could say anything else, he continued, "Whether it's done or not, you seem quite capable of managing the company. Just look at how well you manage John. That's a full time job in and of itself, you know. Besides, are you telling me that a rocket scientist can't handle one tiny little company?"

Maggie didn't know what to say. She knew what Apple could become, WOULD become, and how awfully managed it had been, and all the money it had lost the Beatles in the end…. And then her eyes lit up as she realized that SHE'D be in charge! She'd be able to keep the likes of Magic Alex out of Apple, and have the authority, the backing to stop the thieving and blatant stealing from the boys. She could turn it into a REAL record label. A real company.

And it would be hers.

She'd have an identity… she wouldn't just BE a Beatle wife… she'd be someone all on her own.

She loved John, clearly, but leaving her career, leaving NASA behind to come to this foreign world and be with him had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. She'd given up everything. Everything but John.

Though it was still tied up in the Beatles, she would be earning her place, and not living off of John. She'd have her own identity, her own path. Separate but still intertwined with his.

She looked Brian in the eye, all timidity gone. "Effectively immediately you say?"

"Yes."

Maggie strode over to the door, opened it up, and turning to what she now knew was her secretary, said "There's been a spill in here. Please call a janitor to come get it cleaned up. Thank you."

As the secretary said, "Yes ma'am, right away," Maggie heard Brian murmur, "That's my girl."

And she smiled. This was going to be FUN!

* * *

**A/N: **

**WE KNEW IT!!!!1111!!!!!! MAGGIE SUE TOOK OVER APPLE!!!!!!!! THIS WUZ UR HOLE REASON FOR TRAVELING BACK IN TIME WASN'T IT MAGGIE SUE??????!!!!!!!111111!!**

**WELL WE'RE ON TO YOU MISSY!!!!!!!1!**

**Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)**


	29. Yes It Is Stories 8: A Day in the Life

**YES IT IS Stories: A Day in the Life**

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

**

* * *

January 19, 1967, 11:55pm**

A guitar strummed, an organ sounded long tones, a piano tinkled a few experimental notes.

"Sugarplum fairy, sugarplum fairy…" John counted in and then started singing as he strummed softly. Paul gently shook maracas in the background, giving extra rhythm to what John was playing on his guitar.

"I read the news today, oh boy. About a lucky man who made the grade…" John sang, remembering not long ago when he had found the news article that had inspired the song. He'd read it aloud at breakfast, only to watch his fiancé turn pale and sit down heavily. He'd thought it was a slight overreaction on Maggie's part as she hadn't known Tara Brown. Did she feel guilty for not saving the lives of all the Beatles' acquaintances too?

It wasn't until a few days later, when she'd had the same dramatic reaction to a less tragic newspaper blurb he'd read her from the Daily Mail about 4000 pot holes being discovered in Blackburn, Lancashire, that John realized what was going on.

"And though the news was rather sad, well I just had to laugh…"

It had become a kind of game now, figuring out exactly what she was reacting to, how serious it was, and how whatever it was would be woven into the tapestry of the Beatles legend. He'd sometimes badger her to tell him what was coming, but often she'd just shake her head, refusing to give it away.

John was a bit torn – he wanted to know about the future, but the more he knew, the more the legacy of the Beatles pressed, suffocating him. To him, the Beatles were just a band, but having seen a bit of the future, John now knew for a fact that the Beatles were going to be more than that. And that meant pressure to create something that would stand up to the iconic status the band incredibly still had 40 years on. Frankly, John didn't always want to be bothered with this responsibility.

While the Beatles' success was something he had worked long and hard to achieve, at the end of the day, John had to admit he was lazy. Writing songs was something that was easy to him, a kind of lark. Something he and Paul had done together so many years, simply because they could. They were just a band, he kept telling himself. Sometimes, if he repeated it enough, he could almost believe it. Then Maggie would have one of her odd spells and he would be reminded that they had met for the first time only because of this future legacy. Sometimes, when it was too much, he simply figured that whatever he had come up with musically must have been good enough or Maggie never would have come back to him in the first place. The thought that the second time she came back had been purely for him, and had nothing whatsoever to do with music thrilled him deep down. She may be a bit mad for the music of the Beatles like so many other fans, but there was no doubt she was different. And she was all his. He felt warmth run through his body. He wanted her. Right now!

He tried to focus.

"And though the news was rather sad. Well I just had to laugh…I saw the photograph…"

It'd been a photograph of him that brought Maggie back in time – it still hung in one of the labyrinthine hallways of EMI. He looked at it every now and again, just to reassure himself that it was still there. An odd sense of responsibility came with that picture. It needed to still be there, waiting for Maggie to walk past it in 2006. If it wasn't, would he somehow lose her? The rules of time travel and possible futures still confused him.

"I saw a film today, oh boy…The English army had just won the war…"

He liked this reference to the film project he'd just recently finished. It was while on location that he picked up his latest pair of glasses, surprising himself that he'd finally found a pair he didn't feel ridiculous in. He felt a bit foolish that they were much like the glasses he'd refused to wear as a child. Maggie had taken a funny turn the second she'd seen them too. Very strange it was, seeing these flashes of the future in her eyes.

"1….2…..3…..4…"

John's mind wandered as Mal counted. Where was she? Maggie was supposed to have been here an hour ago.

"….13….14…15…"

She'd been putting in long hours, he knew – and he was proud of the work she was doing. Apple needed her. The Beatles need her. Hell, HE needed her. And that was just it. HE needed her – and where was she? Off shuffling papers. Not for the first time, John felt himself scowl.

"…21…22…23…24…"

At the sound of an alarm, John looked up, catching sight of Mal clutching a ringing clock. Mal smiled sheepishly at him as he shut it off. John shook his head. They'd never be able to get that off the tape. What was once a good mood was quickly becoming soured.

The placeholder bars to Paul's middle eight were counted off, and then John sang the last verse - the bit about the holes he'd read about in the paper filling the Albert Hall. John loved this verse, but even its nonsensicality wasn't enough to cheer him. Where was she?!

Once George Martin had given the signal that he had stopped recording, John put his guitar down, a little harder than he had intended to, and stalked over towards Paul who had just slid onto the piano bench. Mal had seen that John was in a mood and had already scooted out the door figuring he'd hide out at the pub until the current Lennon temper tantrum had blown over. He knew from experience that by the time he returned, John would have forgotten about whatever had driven Mal away in the first place.

John slammed his fist down on top of the piano. "Well, that was complete shite, Macca. And what in the hell got into Mal with setting off that clock?"

"What? I thought the song was coming together nicely." Paul's mental alarms were going off – he could see John was in one of his moods. Glancing at John out of the corner of his eye, Paul quickly picked up the glass he'd been drinking from and moved it out of John's range.

Now that the threat of glass wasn't present, Paul turned back to the piano, neatly ran his fingers over the keys of the piano, and started singing, "Woke up, got out of bed…dragged a comb across my head…" in his best Vaudeville voice. He knew John hated when he did that, but he thought that maybe his best bet was provoke John to just explode and get it out of his system, otherwise he'd be stuck listening to him simmer and snipe for the rest of the night. They had planned to work until 2:30 am, and he didn't want to waste the studio time. And, truth be told, deep down, Paul really just enjoyed provoking John.

"The alarm clock works quite nicely with what I'd written, doesn't it?" Paul said mildly, keeping his eyes focused on the piano keys in order to avoid John's gaze. "I think I quite like it there."

John watched as that typical, smug expression cross Paul's face and he knew Paul was pleased with himself. It infuriated him – that and Paul's insistence on hamming up half his songs. He knew Paul was angling to have "When I'm 64" included on the album. He hated that song too. John opened his mouth to let Paul have it.

George watched in dismay from across the room as he saw the stormy expression move across John's face, and knew what John was about to unleash on a seemingly unsuspecting Paul. John had been in a perfectly good mood all night – this sulk had come on rather suddenly. Actually, George could pinpoint it to somewhere around the end of verse two, when John had looked up to check the time.

Maggie was late again.

He'd better go call her to see what was keeping her and to warn her about John. George ducked out of the studio to go find a phone. After years of experiencing Lennon and McCartney brawls, George knew that he had plenty of time to kill.

"Where are you going, mate?" Ringo was right behind him. "You're not leaving me in here with that, are you?" Ringo followed George out the door and into the hallway. " What's got John this time?"

"Maggie's late." George said briefly. "I'm sure she just lost track of time again – but if she doesn't get her arse here soon…"

"Maybe John will be done in by the time she gets here."

George nodded. "I think that might have been Paul's plan. Sometimes it's best if John gets it all out and then we can get on with things. Paul hates wasting his precious studio time."

"I dunno, I've wasted plenty of it playing chess." Ringo shrugged, knowing that as he wasn't one the band's songwriters, he was often waiting around for other people to tell him what to do. He didn't know why John was so insistent that Maggie race over here, just to have to sit and watch, when she had a company to run. Ringo always felt a little bit in awe of Maggie's mental quickness – it was all he could do to keep up with her in conversation – between her interest in science and her knowledge of life in the future, he hardly knew what she was saying half the time. She had brought in a chessboard once though, and they'd starting playing regularly during breaks from recording, while John and Paul were busy arranging and composing. Chess he understood – he'd been a sickly child and had played lots of sedentary games. He'd always liked chess – and the fact that he was better than her at it helped level the playing field a bit.

George and Ringo wandered around trying office doors, until they found an open one with an available phone. Quickly, George rang Maggie's office.

"Maggie Sue." The voice on the other end sounded impatient, as if it didn't welcome the interruption.

George held the receiver between himself and Ringo. Grinning, George made his voice higher to disguise it, comically unable to keep the Liverpool scouse out of it.

"Please, can we talk to Miss Margaret Susan of Apple Corps, L.T.D?" George spelled out the full name of their fledgling company.

"We're ever such big Beatle fans," Ringo squeaked into the phone. "Can we meet the Beatles, please?"

"We'd do **anything**," George giggled. "And I mean **anything**!"

"Ringo's me favorite!" Ringo managed to exclaim before he broke up laughing.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"Who is this??" Maggie Sue said in a mock serious tone, trying to keep the laughter out of her own voice.

But she couldn't keep the laugher in any more than they could.

George finally caught his breath. "Miss Maggie Sue, it is midnight – and you were due here an hour ago," he scolded.

"Oh no! It isn't really midnight already, is it?"

"It most certainly is!" George's voice lowered. "Seriously, Mags, you'd better get over here. John's in a mood."

George could hear Maggie digging around the papers stacked on her desk trying to unbury her clock. "Shit!" he heard her groan under her breath.

It was midnight and she'd told John she would make an effort to get to the studio at 11pm that night. She'd really wanted to be there too – John had told her they were recording his new one, "In the Life of…" tonight. Quickly, she'd figured out he'd meant "A Day in the Life", but hadn't corrected him at the time, wanting to see how he'd come up with the familiar title on his own. John amused her by being very particular about his titles. She badly wanted to be there to see the song recorded, but there was always so much work to be done at Apple Corps. She was in charge now and she owed it to the Beatles legacy to give them her best.

Tonight she'd spent the last few hours tapping numbers into an adding machine and wishing for the millionth time for a copy of Excel. Or a computer. Everything took so much TIME to do in the 1960s. The lack of the right technology for this job, added to the late hour had made her frustrated and tired. And now the ringing phone had interrupted her train of thought and she had lost the string of numbers she'd been adding. Her bad mood had dissipated though, when George and Ringo had called her. She'd been living amongst the Beatles for nearly a year now and she still found them entertaining. She didn't know how they were able to turn the charm on like that. And off, as she'd sometimes found.

Like now, with John.

"Oh no!" She'd finally found her clock and verified the time.

"Oh, yes. He's yelling at Paul as we speak. He'll have gotten it out of his system by the time you get here, but I think you'll owe Paul one for that."

"I'll be there as soon as I can! Hopefully Paul will keep John distracted."

It wasn't just Mal that knew that anything John was upset about would blow over as soon as something else caught his attention. The last time John had started to make noise about Maggie being late, George had pointed out that it was looking like Paul was going to have more songs on the new album than he would. John had started mumbling something about circus posters and wandered off, Maggie's lateness forgotten. He had been so involved in his new song idea that he hadn't even noticed when Maggie had slipped in.

"Paul did his Vaudeville voice." George said flatly. "He knows John hates that."

Maggie laughed. "Well, John will be yelling for a while then. Just make sure you keep the glassware out of reach."

"Good thought. I'd better go check on that."

"Thanks for calling, George. I owe **you** one too!"

"You owe me more than one, luv! Looks like you'll be joining us on our next trip to India, then?" George laughed and hung up.

India had been a bit of a bone of contention between them. Pattie and George had fallen in love with the country on their visit – all Maggie could envision was the poor and the indigent, the beggars and the starving children. She'd had friends visit India and come home shaken by the experience. Still, she knew the band's future was tied up in it and there probably was no good way to get out of going.

Maggie grabbed her coat, locked up her office, and headed downstairs towards the main door of the Apple office building.

"Good evening, Miss," Henry, the night guard said as she walked up to his counter. "Working late again?"

"Hello, Henry. Yep – busy as always. Would you mind calling a car for me?"

John had insisted that Maggie use a driver to transport her back and forth from the Apple office to EMI. They'd fought over it, as Maggie had deemed it an unnecessary expense. She could just take a cab, couldn't she? No need to keep drivers sitting around waiting for a call. But since Maggie worked off hours and was often driving to the studio late at night, John had refused to back down on this issue.

"We have lots of money, luv," he'd laughed. "Don't worry about it!"

But that was just the problem. The Beatles had lots of money. But they also spent lots of it – and often generously. And she even admitted that some of it had to be done for tax purposes. She accepted that. But she wanted them to invest it wisely, not just throw it away.

The few fights Maggie and John had had so far were over money.

Maggie didn't think a casual attitude towards money was a good way to live life. Not having had much of it as a grad student, she'd always kept track of her own spending, dutifully recording her expenditures in a computer program. She knew to the penny what she had. The Beatles didn't seem to have any clue, other than that they had a lot.

She'd read about the Apple years and had been horrified how mismanaged this company had been. The Beatles were like children in so many ways, not having any idea how money worked or what value it had. They needed her, whether they knew it or not. She had a feeling they wouldn't like some of the changes she planned on imposing at Apple, but it was too bad. It was for their own good. Like…being made to eat your vegetables.

As head of Apple Corps, she was swiftly finding that this was a job that could be all-consuming. John had understood her need to take this job at first. He knew Apple Corps needed someone they could trust to guard their interests and their money, but he also knew that she needed a purpose, something she could sink her teeth (and her brain) into. Maggie liked drawing a salary by working for it – she hadn't the idea of being a kept woman. At home in her own time, she'd been a scientist and she'd supported herself fully. She wasn't used to asking a man for spending money, something she'd had to do here, having no money of her own. John was only too glad to throw fistfuls at her, or to tell her to bill anything she wanted to Apple and the Beatles' accountants. Beatles just didn't deal with money. But that was going to change. And soon.

Maggie knew that she could catch the company before it started bleeding money, which she knew it would. It would positively hemorrhage. Her first week on the job, she'd dug into the expense reports to see exactly what was being charged to Apple. There was actually a fairly good record of these, because a good many people had been essentially living off the company since the day it had started. Which wasn't even that long ago.

As a giant tax shelter, too many people looked at Apple as if it were an ATM. (Not that any of them knew what that was yet!) They'd simply submit an invoice, and whatever it was would be paid with no questions asked. There was simply no oversight and no one to care. Everybody wins with the Beatles footing the bill. While the band was just as bad, they worked damn hard for that money and she wasn't going to let other people waste it. So, no more. All invoices were to go through her. If it wasn't truly related to Apple and Beatle business, she wasn't going to approve it. Approved ones would go to the accountants, the rest would be returned unpaid.

The first day of her second week, she'd drafted a memo and circulated it before she'd thrown down the hammer – she'd wanted to give fair warning, though she knew that her memo would make her unpopular regardless.

Derek Taylor, the Beatles' press agent, had actually marched into her office and slammed it down on her desk, wanting to know what in hell she meant by it and who in the hell she thought she was. She'd explained it as simply as she could - from now on, business was business. She had the authority to act, and she intended to use it. Derek could like it or leave. However, it would be a shame for him to leave when he was due for a pay increase. That had caught his attention and he'd left her office slightly mollified.

In addition to looking at the invoices, she'd taken an inventory of the Beatles' employees and their salaries. The Beatles may have lived it up, but Mal and Neil still only made 38 pounds a week. They were employees, but they were also underpaid for the value they had to the Beatles - and for what the Beatles often put them through. They were practically on duty twenty-four hours a day. She didn't want them to feel owed later and try to take advantage of Apple, so she'd put through substantial pay raises for them. She'd also adjusted the salaries of many of the other employees, like Derek and others. The Beatles never thought of these things because they simply never had to think about money anymore. There were many trusted people here and they should be rewarded as long as they kept that trust. And maybe if people made more, they wouldn't try to charge every little thing to the Beatles. Well, they might still try, but at least they could afford some of it on their own.

She'd also made note of which employees she considered deadweight and put them mentally on notice. She'd cut them if she had to. Maybe interview some new people.

Tonight she'd been making all sorts of notes. She wanted to audit the accounting department and explain her new policies on paying the invoices. She wanted to make sure all the numbers added up in the books. She also wanted to recruit one or two people to give the Beatles an overview of the company's numbers, the Beatles' worth, where their assets were, and what each Beatle's expenditures were. They needed to be hip though. If they were boring, the Beatles attention would wander. She wondered if circus clowns might help. Or midgets. John liked midgets. _Little people_, she mentally corrected herself.

There was also the matter of Dick James publishing to be dealt with, and the fact the NEMS was taking 25% of what they made. And that terrible merchandising deal. And what EMI took. She should meet with Apple and the Beatles' lawyers to get the figures from them and to explore their options. She remembered that Linda's brother Lee had had some very sound advice on the Beatles' investments, and that they hadn't wanted to listen to it. She'd give him a call, and sound him out. She knew they could use his advice. She'd warn him to wear jeans and leave the preppy clothes at home. John hadn't liked the look of him the first time out, which led to Bad Things. Like Allen Klein.

There was so much to do – so much that it was overwhelming. She knew she couldn't do it alone, but she really wanted to get a feel for every aspect of the Beatles business and then try to assemble a team of people she could trust, and try to get things to the point where she just needed to have the team report to her. It was a big investment of time up front, but it would be worth it. She knew it wouldn't be long before the Beatles would come to her wanting a clothing boutique or a record studio of their own. She'd give it to them if it was what they wanted, but they would do it the smart way. And she'd be damned before they handed out money to every freak who walked up and asked for it. They'd scout talent the right way. After all, one of the early Apple Corps talents had been James Taylor. Not all the ideas the Beatles had had been totally crazy – they just needed some guidance with the execution.

Juggling all this plus John, who could be very needy, had been difficult. But she'd actually tried to involve him as much as she could for the very reason that she didn't want business to drive a wedge between them. She knew it could if she let it. But she also knew John respected her brain, and was even turned on by it. John was smart himself, even if he was easily manipulated, so she filled his head with her worries about the company and tried to make them his worries too. She wanted him (and the others) to care. It was their money, their company, their legacy; they should care what happened to it.

John was patient, but she knew his patience had a limit. The neediness again. Everything was fine until John needed her or wanted her and then he had to come first. Sometimes that was easy, other times, not so much. She knew most of the other Beatles wives and girlfriends put their men before themselves. While Ringo was in the studio, she knew Maureen would be at home preparing her man a feast that would be ready and waiting for his 3 AM return from the studio. And when Beatle women weren't there for their men, like Jane, with her demanding schedule, it caused Problems. With a capital P.

Now it was her turn to cause problems. She'd promised to be at the studio early tonight, and she was an hour late. She cursed again, because she really had wanted to be there early. Missing out on A Day in the Life would be tragic. Fortunately, they'd still be working on it tomorrow. And they wouldn't be recording the orchestra until early February. The final touch would come a bit later, when they added the final pianos. She wouldn't miss that for the world. She wanted to be playing one of them. What good was being engaged to a Beatle if you couldn't play a small part in the making of Sgt Pepper?

Though she frequently worked evenings, usually John didn't mind terribly. He was busy with Paul in the studio most nights. Maggie and John had worked out a schedule where she'd be at Apple until around 10 PM, at which point, she'd head to the studio to play chess with Ringo, watch John and Paul be brilliant (she really didn't want to miss that!), grab some sleep at home with John, and arrive back at Apple in time for a quick lunch, which she ate while her secretary, Jenny, updated her. Truthfully, she'd never been a morning person anyway – and as a grad student she'd kept an odd schedule, coming in late and working all night. The Beatles' unusual hours were actually a natural fit.

Maggie had sworn she wouldn't compromise her 21st century work ethic to be a 60s wife. She wouldn't be at John's beck and call. But she knew it was important to be there for him and not to put the company before her relationship. There was no point if she transformed Apple but lost John in the process.

Besides, in the end he was far more important to her then any business. She hoped he knew that.

----

Maggie raced down the hall to Studio 2, and peeked in. George, who had been keeping an eye out for her, saw her and motioned at the corner, where John was twanging away on his guitar. Paul was in the middle of the room pounding on the piano. Ringo was in another corner, which had been set up with a table for meals and tea, hands on his ears, stubbornly reading the book in front of him.

Maggie walked across the room and past Paul, who ignored her. _She was really going to owe him one for this,_ she thought. She approached John, who was sitting facing away from her. Lightly placing her hands on his shoulder, Maggie leaned down and kissed his cheek. She didn't linger long, deciding it was probably best to pull back, not yet knowing what she was to expect from John.

John turned and peered up at her through his granny glasses. He looked back down, nearly expressionlessly, put the guitar neatly on its stand and stood up. She looked up at him curiously, as he bent over her so they were eyeball to eyeball. John grabbed the briefcase from her hand, tossed it aside, and then picked her up and swung her around.

Kissing her full on the lips he growled at her, "You're late!"

"Sorry," she replied twining her fingers in his hair and pulling him down for more kisses. So it was to be passion of a good kind. That she could handle. She loved John when he was like this. Maggie very quickly derailed her train of thought when John set her roughly down and pressed her up against a wall and continued to kiss her hard and fast. She was gasping, he was panting, and his hands were everywhere at once. She was about to pull him down on the floor and finish it right there when suddenly a drumstick rebounded off the wall by their entwined bodies, very quickly reminding Maggie that they were NOT alone and had quite the audience.

"Get a room!" Paul bellowed. "The rest of us are here to work."

"I'm not, mate," Ringo quipped, "and I was quite enjoying the show." He finished by waggling his eyebrows meaningfully at Maggie and John. Maggie blushed beet red, mortified.

"Disgusting!" George added. "You two are worse than animals." But Maggie could see from his lopsided grin that he was just teasing.

John, who was laughing at this point, pulled Maggie up from the floor, and kissed her soundly one last time before heading back towards Paul. He kept Maggie's hand firmly in his, though. "I need to work, luv, before Paul's knickers stay permanently in a twist," John whispered to Maggie conspiratorially.

"They are not in a twist!" Paul began before he realized what he'd just said. "Wait, that isn't to say that I have knickers. What I meant was –"

"Not wearing any knickers?!!!" John yelled with glee, dropping Maggie's hand and pouncing on Paul while making a grab for his trousers. "Let us see, you wanton hussy you!"

"John, get off," Paul bellowed from underneath him frantically trying to keep his trousers safely UP.

_Well,_ Maggie thought with a smirk, _John seems to have gotten over his bad mood if he's trying to get into Paul's pants._

While John and Paul were wrestling, Ringo sidled up to Maggie and asked quietly, "So did you get a chance to look at the idea for the clothing boutique yet?

Ah yes, _The_ Boutique. The sinkhole, the money pit, the bad move for Apple. Maggie had hoped they would forget about it, but from the cessation of noise on the floor, either John had succeeded in checking to see if Paul really had knickers on or not, or they were waiting for an answer.

Looking around the room, Maggie's fears were confirmed, and she suddenly felt exhausted. John, Paul, George, & Ringo, _The Beatles,_ she thought with a shiver, were staring at her with a mixture of expectation and anticipation.

They didn't expect her to say no. After all, who said no to a Beatle?

The truth was, she didn't want to say no to them, she just wanted to put some checks and balances into the store so that they wouldn't be outright robbed!

Knowing she had their full attention, which was a rare thing these days, she began slowly, picking her words carefully. "It's an interesting idea, Ringo. Though I'm not sure how profitable it would be –"

"Who cares about profits?" John asked bitingly, all trace of playfulness gone from his countenance.

Exhausted from the long days and longs hours spent at Apple, with apparently no comprehension from anyone about just how much work it truly was, Maggie snapped. "Well, for starters you should, John Lennon. Money doesn't grow on trees. We can't drop everything to pursue a hair-brained project, every time one of you has a whim. Just because you're _The Beatles_, it doesn't mean everything you touch is gold." Ok, perhaps she'd gone a bit too far. Feeling instantly guilty she opened her mouth to soften her words, but John beat her to it.

"We do this because we like it, not for the money." John began angrily. "That's all you care about these days, Maggie. Money, money, money. Where's it going? Who's spending it? How's it being spent? How can we earn more? Christ, you'd think you cared more for five quid than the music, Maggie. Than you care for me. You're always going on about money, girl and it's becoming a bit of a drag."

Maggie could feel the tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Tears of anger and shame. She couldn't believe that John actually felt this way, after all her efforts to make him care about his own company, and more, that he would talk to her and embarrass her like this in front of the others, _her friends_. And she was just trying to help them. In fact, they always seemed to forget that she'd in fact given up **everything** for them. For John.

The other Beatles were pointedly looking anywhere but at Maggie and John. Ringo was pretending to read an upside down book, Paul was plunking away at a discordant tune on the piano, and George had simply melted into a corner and was pretending to be asleep.

Wiping at the corners of her eyes, Maggie angrily responded back at John. "Well, if I'm such a drag, then I suppose I'm off!" and promptly turned on her heel and marched out the door.

As soon as she was clear of the room she let the tears fall freely.

John found her sitting in their hallway staring at his picture. _The picture. _The one that had brought her back and then nearly taken her away from him. Panicking, he raced to her side and wrapped steely fingers around her wrist in a vise grip.

"Just what do you think you are doing?!" he demanded as he stared into her red-rimmed eyes. She'd been crying. John felt like an even bigger jerk then before. He prided himself on his razor wit, and the skill with which he wielded it, but it was easy to forget that the end result was usually hurting someone he loved, and he never wanted to hurt Maggie.

Maggie weakly tried to pull her wrist from his grip, and when he didn't relent, her shoulders slumped. "Nothing."

"What?" He asked, more gently this time.

"Nothing. I wasn't doing anything. I couldn't leave you even if I tried at this point, John. This is where I want to be. Need to be. It doesn't work on a whim." She said resting her chin in her free hand, and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Besides, I wasn't trying to leave. I told you I wouldn't do that again."

Relaxing his grip on her wrist and breathing a sigh of relief, John settled down next to her. "Then why are you here?" he asked, truly confused.

In response Maggie just smiled sheepishly at him. "Honestly? I don't know. I just like looking at that picture of John Lennon. I always did have a crush on him."

Chuckling a little at that, John reached out and pulled her into his arms. "I also hear he's your favorite Beatle."

"Yes!" She quickly responded, snuggling deeper into his arms. "Even more then George, and that's saying something!"

"I'd better be your favorite," he growled playfully, and then buried his face into her hair inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I'm so-"

"No, let me finish," John interrupted. "I know that you are just trying to help us, and that you need something be "just yours" and that's Apple. I guess, I don't know, I just hoped that maybe me being "just yours" would be enough. And I miss you girl. You're gone so much and work such long hours. It's only money, luv. They print it every day. You shouldn't worry so much about it, about everything. I know, I know…. I'm a selfish, moody beast, but I can't help it. I just want to be with you."

Any thoughts or counter-arguments that Maggie had faded away to the back of her mind. She knew that they still hadn't resolved this issue, and probably never would completely resolve it, but right now she and John just needed to be together.

Smiling up at him, Maggie leaned in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, and she fluttered light kisses to the corner of his mouth, up his jawline, and then pausing at his ear, she whispered, "_Nothing_ is more important to me then you. _Nothing._" And she meant it.

Pulling back slightly to look her full in the eyes, John stared for a moment, and seeing the truth of her words, simply said "Good!" before kissing her fully on the lips suddenly reigniting their passion from earlier in the evening.

Before she even realized what was going on they were suddenly kissing frantically, tugging at clothes, and Maggie was pulling John down on the floor while he was pushing her down at the same time. They may have had a hard time agreeing on ideas today, but clearly their bodies were working in harmony.

John was tugging her skirt up roughly and Maggie was fumbling with zipper on his trousers when suddenly cold water splashed on them.

Paul was looming over them, a wicked grin on his face. "Oy, get on home for that you two. This is a proper place here! George was right. You ARE animals!"

John scooped Maggie up and threw her over his shoulder without a word, and started to trot off towards the exit while Maggie called out to Paul, "We're even now, buddy!" Paul came to attention and tossed off a smart salute at Maggie as she and John rounded the corner and were out of Paul's sight.

John found an unlocked office, set her down inside, locked the door firmly behind him, and then, leering at her like a lecherous old man asked, "Now where were we, dearie?"

"Right where we're supposed to be," she laughed and held out her arms to him.

* * *

**A/N: **

**So.... Geez john, moody much? And sounds to us like you got a bit of a crush on Paulie... I mean SRSLY what's up with the obsession with his underwear? **

**This is the last of these stories – however, we do have a sequel to Yes It Is, called Tomorrow Never Knows! We'll start posting those chapters soon, probably only once a week, because we are still finishing it and we need to pace ourselves! We'll be starting a fresh story for the sequel, so be sure to look for it!**

**We've also self-published this story on Lulu , so if you would like to buy a hard copy, you can! **

You can search for us there using this number: 7443398

**Also, we'd love to know what you thought of our story, so please drop us a line. :)**


	30. Real Love Sequel Announcement!

"Real Love" coming soon!

We just wanted to make an announcement about the next sequel to "Yes It Is" and "Tomorrow Never Knows" and explain how it will work!

We've decided "Real Love" will have four parts to it. We will start posting the chapters in the first part in early to mid-September 2011. We'll take a short break between parts of the story.

If you want to get notified, than add us as a favorite author as we'll start a new listing for "Real Love", rather than continue in the Tomorrow Never Knows one.

Thanks for all your messages and support and we hope you will enjoy the next story!


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